Mr Darcy's Trouble with Officers
by Elizabeth Goodrich
Summary: Mr. Darcy is at a crossroads, tormented by the choice between familial expectations and the wishes of his heart. Under pressure to marry his cousin, he instead proposes to Elizabeth Bennet, assuming that a penniless girl with four sisters can ill afford to say no. But he underestimates her spirit and determination. Book is completed and on sale at Amazon!
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Jane slept peacefully for the first time in days.

For Elizabeth Bennet, the tranquil rest her sister enjoyed after many hours of tossing and turning, plagued by fever dreams, was a relief. The fever had broken and finally Jane could be said to be on the mend.

The happy news of this moment lent wings to Elizabeth's feet, her natural exuberance leading her out to the garden, as she simply felt too wonderful to be contained indoors another minute. Jane's relief quite caused her own, and she was determined to spend what little time she could outdoors before Jane woke and needed her once more.

Clasping her shawl around her shoulders lest she lose it, Elizabeth made her way down the path to the farthest corner of the garden, where she had discovered a secluded bench that was perfect for reading. She promised herself she would only indulge in a dozen pages or so before returning to the house, as she did not want Jane to wake alone should she require assistance.

Elizabeth pulled up short, shocked at the sight before her. None other than Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had been plaguing her with cunning barbs and ill-concealed insults at every turn, sat in her favorite spot. He caught sight of her and surged to his feet, giving her at least that much courtesy.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, quite forgetting her manners. Too late she recalled that while she was not necessarily a guest in his home, they were at Netherfield Park, the leased home of Darcy's good friend, Charles Bingley. She flushed a little upon hearing the shrewish tone come from her lips, but decided that she did not care enough to take it back.

He raised his eyebrows at her words, but made no attempts at reprimand, as she had half-expected that he would. He sat back down on the bench.

"How is your sister? I had heard that she is improving," he replied, ignoring her question.

"She is. Her fever has broken, and she is resting easily now. I imagine that we will be able to return home to Longbourn in a few days' time." Elizabeth thought that he would be pleased at the news, but he only looked down to the ground at her words.

"I apologize if our presence has caused you any discomfort," Elizabeth said, trying again to engage him in conversation. She would never discover why he was here, at the bench where she frequently came to read, unless he told her. But perhaps it was his favorite spot first, and she had been the one imposing this last week. "If you favor this bench, I can find a new one. I had only thought to come and read, giving Jane a few hours of rest in private."

"Not at all, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth frowned at him, unsure as to which statement he was disagreeing with. "You favor the bench not at all, or we have caused you no discomfort? Please, be more clear. I understand that you think me a simple, intolerable country girl, but it would help matters if you conversed by more than a half-dozen words at a time."

He looked up at her in shock, completely taken aback. It was a long moment before he finally said, "I do not think you simple, or intolerable. I regret that you heard my ill-spoken words at the assembly in Meryton, but I did not know you then, and have come to find you very tolerable, indeed. I can only hope that the sentiment is at least partially returned, but fear from your tone that it is not."

"You find me tolerable?" Elizabeth repeated in shock. "I honestly could not tell."

"More than tolerable, if you absolutely must know."

It was Elizabeth's turn to stare at him, wordless with surprise. "More than tolerable, you say? And, pray tell, what has brought about this sudden change?"

"It is something that I have been entertaining, against my better judgment for some time now."

"Oh, against your better judgment?" she repeated, taking offense. "I was under the impression that the esteemed Fitzwilliam Darcy never did anything against his better judgment."

"Do not be obstinate just to evade the matter at hand. I am trying to tell you how fond I have grown of you, but you are, as always, making it difficult."

Elizabeth had to remind herself not to gape at him in shock. "You do have a way with words, don't you? First I am tolerable, but only against your better judgment, then you call me obstinate and difficult in the same breath that you speak of fondness. Are you teasing me, sir? Have you come to ambush me in a secluded corner of the garden that you may regale me with your confusion regarding my person?"

Darcy leapt to his feet once more and began to pace, exasperation marring his handsome face. "Of course not. I am trying to convey my feelings to you, but this may have been ill-advised."

Elizabeth threw her hands into the air. "To what purpose? I thought that you had made your feelings perfectly clear up until this point, and only now find myself to be confused. Perhaps it is a good thing that Jane and I will be leaving soon."

"Miss Bennet. I apologize that you had such a low opinion of my feelings toward you, and hope to remedy that situation. To what end you ask, well, I had hoped to come to an agreement between us."

"What kind of agreement?" she asked with suspicion. "I may not be as worldly or wealthy as you are, sir, but I do not enter into agreements with men."

"Heavens, no. Not that kind of agreement. Why do you even know of such a thing?" Darcy was surprised.

"People talk, sir. The only other agreement that comes to mind is one of marriage, and you could not possibly be suggesting such a thing. Why, the entire idea is laughable."

He stopped pacing and gave her a long look. "Why is that?"

"You, propose marriage to me?! You said a moment ago that you think me obstinate, difficult and you are only fond of me against your better judgment. You could not possibly desire to form such an attachment to me as marriage would require, unless you are under duress. Does this have something to do with the letter you and Mr. Bingley were discussing in the library after dinner last night?"

"You heard us?"

"Well, you certainly were not being discreet with your conversation. I was not trying to listen, and that is why I retired early. All I know is that your aunt wrote to you, requesting your presence at Rosings Park with some urgency."

"Yes, she has asked for me. It seems that my cousin, Anne, is not doing well."

Elizabeth faltered in her outrage. His cousin is not doing well. That is concerning, indeed. "Mr. Darcy," she gentled her tone, for she knew that he must be worried and it was, perhaps, causing him to be slightly more arrogant than usual. "You have my sympathies regarding your cousin, and I do hope that she makes a full recovery from whatever ails her, but I fail to see what that has to do with proposing to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue continued

He began to pace again, running his hands through his dark locks in frustration. "Lady Catherine has been laboring under the assumption that I would eventually marry her daughter, Anne de Bourgh, although we never had an agreement or even any inclination to develop such a bond between us. Miss Anne and I have discussed it at length, and both concurred that it would not be a fulfilling match for either of us. We only love each other in a familial way, and both wish for more from our spouses."

"You do?" Elizabeth was so astonished that she sat heavily upon the bench, her book forgotten beside her. "I think this is the most I have ever heard you speak at any one time, Mr. Darcy, and I never would have assumed you to be a romantic at heart."

He gave her an inscrutable look. "Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think you do, Miss Bennet. I am not one who has been gifted with a comfortable ease of speech, especially in the company of those I do not know well."

"Clearly, I do not know you well, nor are you very familiar with me. Admitting so makes your idea of marriage between us all the more suspect. Pray tell, what inspired you to such a thought? Why would you choose me, out of all of your acquaintances?"

"Perhaps I know you better than you realize, Miss Bennet. I have been observing you for some time, nearly a week here at Netherfield, and have asked after your character before you and your sister came to stay with us the past few days."

"What have you learned?" She tried to stifle the nervousness that had beset her when he said he had been observing her, and asking others for their opinions. Such attention from a man was unusual, and not generally admitted to with such candor.

He stepped close, his legs nearly touching hers as she remained in her seat. "You are widely read, and the only thing you enjoy more than a good book is perhaps a walk in the sunshine. Indeed, you can be found outdoors even when it is cold out, and your family dares not attempt to contain you within your home for long. You and your sister Jane run the Longbourn household for the most part, as your mother is frequently ill with nerves."

"Allow me to clarify that point for you, sir. She is frequently beset with nerves, it is true, but my mother is more than competent in the running of our household. Jane and I do our part, but please do not discount my mother's efforts." Elizabeth was surprised to hear the quick defense coming from her lips, but it was true. Mrs. Bennet had her faults, but they were not for a stranger such as Darcy to air with such a casual attitude, no matter how wealthy he was.

Darcy had the good grace to glance away, his shoulders stiffening at the set-down. "Forgive me, I spoke of her out of turn. I have also learned that no matter how silly your younger sisters behave, you make every attempt to keep them out of trouble, even while humoring them. You have repeatedly asked for further studies for your youngest sister, Mary, as you feel that she has potential that extends beyond Catherine's and Lydia's capabilities, despite her youth. You frequently discuss philosophy, literature, chess and even fishing with your father."

He sat beside her, leaning close. "How have you become interested in these things? They are not typically subjects that a lady finds herself influenced by."

Elizabeth flushed at the intimacy of both his position and inquiry. "Mr. Darcy, I must know how you have made these discoveries. You are referring to private exchanges between my family and myself, and I do not see why you are so preoccupied by my innermost thoughts, or the subjects on which I am interested. I appear to be at the disadvantage, for while you know so much about me, I do not find that I have as many details about you. All I know for certain is that you regard my township with distaste, and find the majority of its inhabitants to be intolerable and unrefined. I still fail to see why you think we would make a good match, even if we do have common ground in that we both enjoy going fishing."

She stood and stepped away from the bench where he sat so close to her. "Tell me the truth. Would you be entertaining this extraordinary notion of marrying me if your Aunt Catherine had not sent the letter?"

He stared up at her, his height making it so that she did not have to look down very far. "No."

The admission wounded her more than she thought it would, but she refused to reflect upon that now. "I thought not."

"Not yet."

"Not yet? What do you mean?" she asked in surprise.

"I would not have broached the subject with you yet, as you clearly have such a low opinion of me. I had hoped to find more time together to explore the idea before setting it before you, but you are correct in assuming that my aunt's foolhardy insistence that I marry Anne plays a part in this decision."

"Mr. Darcy, I have a low opinion of you because you have earned it. Your intolerance and disregard for my family speaks for itself. Why, even your proposal just now, if one could really call it so, was phrased in so much dislike that I wonder why I am still here, having this conversation. You spoke of reluctant fondness against your better judgment, and called me both difficult and obstinate. What did you expect me to say when confronted in such a way?"

His eyes grew tight, but he did not say anything in reply.

"You see? You say that both you and Anne wish to feel intimate affection, even love, for your spouse, yet you cannot say that you feel such for me, and I most assuredly cannot say that I feel it for you. I am sorry if this disappoints you, but I will not accept such negativity from my husband, if indeed I ever marry."

He scoffed at that. "Not marry? A woman in your position has to marry. You have no wealth of your own, nor wealthy family to maintain you, much less you and your unmarried sisters. Even your father's estate is entailed to someone else upon his death. How will you support yourself if you do not marry?"

Offended, Elizabeth snatched her book up from its resting place and turned a withering glare toward Mr. Darcy. "My father's estate is no more any of your business than your father's is any of mine. Would you find more satisfaction if I were to accept your proposal for the sake of your riches alone? I am certain that agreeing to become the next Mrs. Darcy would offer me a security that you see as essential. I, however, value love, or at least genuine fondness, above such menial concerns. Fortunes can be made and lost, but love should last, Mr. Darcy. It is the one thing that can make a simple home feel like the grandest estate, and bring delight to all within its walls. Yet without it, even a home a lovely as Netherfield Park would feel like the loneliest confinement. Perhaps one day you will understand."

She turned to leave, and was surprised when he touched her elbow. Her skin tingled beneath her shawl, the warm pressure of his touch an unfamiliar thing. It only made the tiny ache in her chest that had blossomed when he had admitted that he would not have proposed without the letter, grow.

"If you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I need to attend to Jane." Elizabeth's voice trembled with suppressed emotion, but she was not entirely certain why. I do not love him, so why am I this upset? Trust Darcy to be so insufferable as to treat a proposal of marriage with such callous disregard. To catch me in a secluded corner of the garden, without even doing me the honor of speaking with my father first. He would have spoken with Papa beforehand if he truly meant it.

Leaving him behind, she hurried into the main house without even a glance back. Darcy sank back onto the bench, his head in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 1

"A woman in pursuit of a soldier is a vain and supercilious creature."

Elizabeth Bennet checked her steps, frustrated to find that she had been outpacing her companions yet again, something she had been naturally wont to do since this dreadful walk to Meryton had begun. Indeed, she had been running from this duty since it had been proposed the night before, having known full well the ramifications of agreeing to introduce their guest, Mr. Collins, to the neighborhood.

Especially since there were certain households within the district to whom she would rather no introduction was made at all.

She hid these feelings now, as she'd been hiding them for days, smiling in as benign a manner as she could manage. Instead she drew to mind the utter ridiculousness of the entire situation, remembering how, not that long ago, it was Mrs. Bennet imagining methods to obtain an introduction to those at Netherfield Park, instead of avoiding it as Elizabeth was doing now. Mrs. Bennet had pleaded with Mr. Bennet to go and greet the Bingleys and when he refused, she had been attempting to think of other ways that she and her daughters might make their own acquaintance in his stead. Fortunately for all involved, Mr. Bennet had relented, going round to Netherfield Park without a word to his wife or daughters, that he may surprise them with an introduction at the Meryton assembly. The irony of the matter was not lost on Elizabeth, now that she was the one avoiding making introductions to Mr. Bingley and his good friend, Mr. Darcy.

The same Mr. Darcy whose face and words haunted her dreams as he both proposed marriage and insulted her in the same breath. She shook her head, vowing for the thousandth time to put it out of her mind.

She glanced over to Mr. Collins with a certain amusement, for although his statement was harsh, he had been at least partially correct in his opinion – at least in regards to her sisters. Though she would never admit it out loud, and felt it was her duty to instead jump to their defense, lest anyone overhear him and feel inclined to agree. A lady of a less wealthy family, such as theirs, had little more than her reputation to commend her, and Elizabeth could not allow their reputations to be attacked without some sort of rebuttal, no matter how true the statement occasionally was.

"I hardly think such is a fair statement to make. My sisters are young, and enjoy their friendships, it is sure. But to make such a bold remark when you barely know them is hardly an endearing quality. Would you not agree, Mr. Collins?"

Mr. Collins was a tall man who walked with a long stride when he remembered what he was about. Unfortunately, he was prone to distraction with minute examinations of his surroundings, and so had a tendency not only to lag behind, but to stare long and hard at whatever it was that held his interest. In this moment he was so caught up in watching Lydia and Kitty greet several soldiers with utmost exuberance that it took him so long to answer that Elizabeth was afraid that she would have to ask him again. Jane hung back from their small group, but then Jane had been hanging back frequently since her illness at Netherfield, walking with a rather dreamy air of late.

"Perhaps I am not as focused on being endearing as you would presume, Miss Bennet. But pray, observe the young ladies about their play, as you so earnestly pointed out. Would you not agree that their behavior is at best rather-"

What he thought was thankfully not spoken. His attention was instead interrupted by Lydia's peal of laughter and demand that Elizabeth hurry up before turning back to her decidedly intimate conversation with two uniformed soldiers. It was a welcome interruption, to be sure, for Elizabeth had been enduring Mr. Collins' various opinions since they departed from Longbourn, and his most common refrain seemed to be repetitions of what he felt Lady Catherine would say regarding everything they saw, from when to shear the sheep he had counted on the hillside, to the best place to grow nasturtiums and whether they truly did help with a cough.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. Mr. Collins had only just begun his visit at Longbourn, and planned to stay several more weeks. She was not certain how they were all to endure him, and on several occasions had caught Papa looking at the man as though he wished he were dead already. All in all, it was already rather difficult to maintain her good spirits around the house, and she could only hope that conditions improved with time.

Lydia laughed again, her happy tones drawing eyes as they continued their walk. Perhaps Mr. Collins is not entirely wrong in his opinion that the soldiers are proving to be something of a nuisance where Lydia and Kitty are concerned. Or perhaps it is Lydia and Kitty that are the nuisance, Elizabeth reflected. With any luck, they will acclimate to the influx of new gentlemen soon, and grow immune to their red-coated charms. I am afraid that Papa will have to step in, otherwise.

Lydia was so bold as to set her hand on one soldier's arm as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. He was a stranger, unfamiliar to Elizabeth, even though they all knew the soldier standing beside him, Mr. Denny.

Elizabeth regarded her sisters with a growing dismay, perplexed by the show of affection. Could Lydia already be familiar with this new soldier? But when would they have met, that the rest of the family did not already know of it?

"Who is she with?"

Startled, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Collins, noting the way his brow furrowed and his voice had grown even more annoyed than before, although this tone, too, seemed to be part of his natural manner of speech. Why, Elizabeth had already heard it several times since his arrival, the most recent being last night as his reading of Fordyce had been interrupted by Lydia's careless chatter regarding the day's happenings. He had remained irritated about it even when they left the house this morning.

"I do not know," she replied, eyeing the handsome soldier who stood so informally at Mr. Denny's side. "Perhaps we had best find out."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 1 continued

Elizabeth caught up to the rest of their party with a growing certainty that all of the male sex were entirely more trouble than they were worth, another fact that had been well proven in the last several weeks. Between Mr. Collins' moodiness and the tall, handsome, yet thoroughly vexing Mr. Darcy who haunted her dreams, she was on the verge of vowing not to have anything to do with any of them. She still could not believe the way Darcy had so casually mentioned an arrangement between them, all the while insulting her very person, as well as her family. The nerve of him.

Yet again, she tried to put him from her thoughts, sensing that dwelling on him would do her no good. Having to do so merely reinforced the budding inclination that men as a whole might be best avoided for now, something she dearly wished that she could convince her sisters of until they were older. Unfortunately, she knew they would never listen.

Her unwanted companion trailed after her as they crossed the street, as though he had some right to judge the actions of her sisters and was determined to bring them to heel. In Mr. Collins' mind, the entailment of the estate had seemingly translated to an entailment of her entire family as well.

"Sisters!" she greeted them brightly, looking rather frankly from Mr. Denny to the newcomer, "Who shall we say is this?"

Lydia rushed to explain, her words tumbling over one another with such speed and exuberance that all Elizabeth was truly able to pull from the context was that the stranger's name was Mr. George Wickham, a fact that caused Mr. Collins to stiffen when he heard it. Mr. Denny joined in, explaining that this was his impoverished friend, Mr. Wickham, who had recently taken a commission with the regiment.

"We are ever so lucky to make your acquaintance," Kitty said with a coy giggle. "Our small town of Meryton is richer for having you here."

"Eh, if only there were any girls rich enough in Meryton, your little town might stand a chance of keeping him," Denny teased. elbowing his friend in the side. "Wickham here is always on the lookout."

Kitty winced beneath Mr. Denny's teasing, yet well-intentioned words. He gave her a little bow, as though in apology, but Lydia ignored his subtle jabs.

A soldier in search of a girl of fortune, indeed. Is no one genuine in their affections any more? Charlotte has said something of a similar nature too many times to count, that she would forgo romance for a comfortable home and merely amiable husband if the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps she is right and I am too romantic. Elizabeth dismissed the thought quickly. No matter. It is still possible that I find love, however unlikely. Perhaps I should travel and meet new people. After all, there are few here that I do not know, with the exception of the soldiers, and it does not seem that Meryton draws so very many visitors aside from Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy of late. Goodness knows that Mr. Darcy has proven himself untouched by romanticism, or he would not have insulted me so soundly, nor proposed marriage merely to escape the fate of being forced to wed Miss Anne de Bourgh. And without even doing me the honor of speaking with Papa about it first. He would have spoken with Papa if he had meant it.

There was little time to engage in conversation with Mr. Wickham on this note before a pair of horses thundered down the lane beside them, and their riders pulled up short to join the group.

She dared not look for a moment, as she just knew that it had to be him. Her heart pounded in her chest despite her valiant efforts to contain it, leaving her shaken. I do not want our first conversation after that sham of a proposal to be here, in front of everyone. What could he possibly have to say to me now? She felt as though she were at battle with herself, one part of her wishing that he would simply disappear forever and the other part burning with curiosity as to why he would have changed his opinion of her, finding her "more than tolerable" as he stated in Bingley's garden. She could not fathom a reason behind his sudden shift in sentiment, as she thought he had been quite clear in his dislike of her, for he had spoken often enough of the accomplishments he felt a true lady ought to have, and it was clear that she was not of that mold. She could not sing well, or play any instruments with a more than passable expertise, although she could read music quite well. Her drawing skills were detailed enough, but she imagined that sketching had little to do with the daily running of an estate as large as Pemberley. Perhaps the idea of marrying his cousin really was so displeasing to him that he would propose to anyone he happened to form a minimal acquaintance with. Not that it made a difference, of course.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley spoke first, the obvious affection in his voice making it clear that he was addressing Jane with his initial greeting. She blushed, and looked away. "Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet," he continued to greet the rest of them. "Sirs."

"Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth returned the formality as coolly as possible, making note of the way Darcy's eyes remained on her person. She hurried through the introductions for Mr. Collins, who startled them all with his formal, yet familiar greeting for Mr. Darcy. It appeared that they were already well acquainted then, having met previously at the home of Mr. Collins' patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was also Mr. Darcy's aunt.

Elizabeth waited impatiently as Mr. Denny went through the whole speech identifying Mr. Wickham all over again, who had been standing oddly behind him, and started when called forward. The soldier in question looked from Mr. Collins to Mr. Darcy and back again, then made his excuses to leave, citing that he had seen a friend with whom he had business to attend. Mr. Wickham then turned smartly and hurried down the street, much to Lydia's consternation.

Elizabeth found herself stepping back from the group once more as Lydia refocused her attention on her former favorite, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Bingley dismounted, then approached Jane. Darcy sighed from atop his great black horse and got down as well, as it was clear that Bingley was determined to stay.

He tried to catch her eye, but Elizabeth avoided him, instead pretending to rummage through her coin purse as though counting up her money. Darcy stood stiffly beside his mount while Mr. Collins looked on between them.

Why did they have to stop? What an absolute nuisance. They should have simply nodded and continued on their way, but I suppose Mr. Bingley really is enthralled with Jane. It is simply too bad that Mr. Darcy happens to be with him. Perhaps Bingley and Jane are the only couple lucky enough to taste the fruit of love, as everyone else seems to be only interested in the appearance of it. Elizabeth's thoughts grew even more scattered as Mr. Darcy came to stand beside her, waiting patiently for her to look up again.

Exasperated, she pulled the drawstring on her purse and dropped it back to its place at her side, no longer able to ignore him at this close proximity.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Bennet?" he asked.

"That depends," she replied quietly. "It seems my dignity was not within, and since you had so little regard for it when we last spoke, I should take care with what miniscule amount I have left."

Darcy's jaw dropped in shock. He quickly closed it, then muttered, "It was not my intention to insult your dignity when I attempted to propose marriage to you, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I should think it was my own heart that was wounded when you told me the very idea was laughable."

Her chest tightened at the reminder of what was surely the worst jest in history. Never had she been more humiliated in her life, and when one was a Bennet, that was really saying something. "Wounded when I was told that you find me obstinate and difficult, or when you said that you find me tolerable against your better judgment?"

"I did not mean it like that."

"I think you did, sir. And I have no wish to relive any more of the experience, so if you do not mind, I think I should be on my way."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 1 continued

She began to walk, too flustered to think much of leaving everyone else behind. Her fortunes, however, were good at that moment and she heard Kitty calling after her to wait as the group got moving again.

"Never has a trip to Aunt and Uncle Phillips' house been so lengthy," Elizabeth murmured to herself. "Why, we shall take up the whole day before ever stepping foot inside the door."

She turned to find Mr. Darcy standing where she had left him, staring after her while his horse tossed its head. Mr. Bingley called to him and he joined the would-be couple, walking his horse alongside his friend's.

Mr. Collins seemed to share her reluctance to make small talk, for he had hurried away from the rest as she had, and thus they were bound to walk together in their solitude. Eventually Mr. Collins stopped, peering into a shop window. Elizabeth stopped by rote as well, more out of habit of indulging her sisters' window-shopping than to remain by his side. By the time she had realized her error, the rest of the group was passed, and they found themselves quite alone in bringing up the rear.

 _Mama is going to be in fits when she hears about this,_ Elizabeth realized. _This cursed day. First I cannot find any quarter from Mr. Darcy, even in my own thoughts, then Mr. Collins invites himself to join us, and now I shall be forced to convince Mama that I am not interested in my oaf of a cousin. The very notion of it is ridiculous, yet I am certain that she will convince herself otherwise._

Mr. Collins gave a long aggrieved sigh and shook his head with a resigned air. Elizabeth tried to imagine what was the matter, but could not fathom what would elicit such a dramatic expression. Everything remained as it was before, with the exception of Mr. Wickham's disappearance, and Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sudden addition to their party.

He sighed again. Finally, she gave in and asked, "Is something amiss, Mr. Collins?"

"Not amiss, Miss Bennet, rather it is the witnessing of such frivolity which I find somewhat tiring."

Though tired did not seem quite the word for it. If anything, Mr. Collins had walked with great energy, and even now carried himself as one accustomed to outdoor exercise. He wasn't even winded by the pace that Elizabeth now set in her haste to rejoin the group and perhaps hurry them along, given her desire to have this task done and over with.

"And so the conversation reverts back to the former." Elizabeth gave him a polite smile, though her heart wasn't in it. "However, in place of calling them supercilious, could you find it in your heart to be more inclined to consider the girls, perhaps, silly? I assure you, they are not so haughty or contemptuous as to be _supercilious_. Father has called them silly on many occasions, and I rather think the term fits them more. Is not silliness the domain of all young girls?"

"It is not the young ladies of which I speak," Mr. Collins shook his head, "but rather the commissioned impudence of newly pressed officers. Military matters are more of an imperative than introductions to the 'silly girls' your father claims as his own, yet here the officers are. I suppose there is little hope for it though, as it was so even when I wore the uniform myself. Though I, of course, was of a more restrained temperament than this Wickham fellow, if I am correct in my estimation of him."

"You? Indeed, Mr. Collins, you are a man of unexpected levels. I had not suspected a man of the cloth to have been a man of war, as well. Do you know something of Mr. Wickham that we do not?"

"Enough to say that he is not the sort your sisters should be setting their caps for, if he is the same Wickham that I am led to believe he may be. Then again, perhaps he is not, and this is merely a cousin or distant relative of the Wickham family that I am passingly familiar with. It would not do to slight him without an assurance either way, so let us speak no more of it. Serving in the military was my chosen career, Miss Bennet," Mr. Collins answered with a certain lifting of his chest. "Unfortunately, while in training one day a cannon was improperly tended and the breach exploded. I suffered an injury," he held up a hand to his ear, "resulting in a partial loss of hearing. No longer able to remain in my country's service, I then enlisted in a different sort of service," he smiled at his own witticism and Elizabeth returned the expression politely.

"Perhaps you can regale us with your reminiscences someday, sir."

"Perhaps." Mr. Collins was again watching Lydia. "And perhaps I would, on such occasion, be allowed to complete the thought without your sister interrupting and ending the narration, as was the case with poor _Fordyce_."

Elizabeth winced. That was, perhaps, too on point. The entire incident of the night before was still something of an embarrassment that Mrs. Bennet would likely not let rest for much time to come.

"Perhaps, Mr. Collins." Elizabeth said, hurrying to forestall any ill will. "I mean of course, that such tales would be well within Lydia's interests and I am sure she would be amused to hear them."

"I shall be honored." He nodded to her. "But I see that the young ladies have reached their destination, regardless of the officers and other distractions." It was true, as they had stopped at the ribbon shop that was partially the cause for this excursion to Meryton. "Perhaps we should join them, Miss Bennet?"

"I think it best that we do, even if to hurry them along, or my aunt will wonder if we are to ever appear at her house today, Mr. Collins." Elizabeth stepped away from her cousin with some relief, thought she was more thoughtful after their conversation. Mr. Collins seemed much more interesting now than he had when he had first been introduced to the family. A sound caught her attention and she looked back, observing that Mr. Darcy might have been walking with Jane and Mr. Bingley, his reins in hand, but his eyes were still on her.

She lifted her chin, defiant of his attention. _He is probably thinking of more ways to insult me, even now._

Behind her, Mr. Collins stumbled as Lydia's laugh floated out of the shop, no doubt revealing her mirth at yet another of Mr. Denny's quips. It seemed his attention was, likewise, not wholly on his path.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 2

It was not without notice that Jane and her companion parted with marked hesitation, made more interesting by the looks they gave one another as they bid farewell a block hence. As the home of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips lay off to the right, but Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had an appointment to the left, there was little to be done except say goodbye with promises to rejoin each other for tea soon.

As a result, it was left to Mr. Denny to walk them the rest of the way, shortly joined by Mr. Wickham who appeared, it seemed, out of nowhere as soon as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were out of sight. The timing seemed somewhat unusual, but Mr. Wickham put the group at ease by claiming to have seen an old friend and wishing to renew the acquaintance before losing him in the crowded marketplace.

Lydia was pleased to have Mr. Wickham escorting her again, and commenced to fluttering her lashes at him once more. Mr. Collins was decidedly less enraptured with Wickham's renewed presence. Once again, his footsteps lagged behind the rest, leaving Elizabeth to slow as well, being the only one willing to accompany him by silent accord of the rest. She did not mind much and felt it natural due to the fact that she had been his choice of companion thus far, and it gave her a chance to think without the other girls chattering in her ear. So it was that they trudged along, both hard pressed to find any merriment with which to lighten the other's mood. It was a strange situation, to say the least. Normally Elizabeth had no trouble finding witticisms and absurdities over which to converse, but today it felt as if her mind was wrapped in cotton wool.

She finally acknowledged her uncharacteristic silence with an apology. "Mr. Collins, I daresay I am not the companion you would have wished for today. I must apologize for not being a more engaging guide, for I never once pointed out the corner where the old dairy used to be."

At that, Mr. Collins lifted his eyes from the ground in front of him and asked, "Where the dairy used to be?"

"Why, yes, it is a decidedly important landmark on the road to my aunt's house," Elizabeth replied, happy to have found a subject that engaged her companion's interest, however benign it was. He had been decidedly morose since Mr. Wickham had reappeared. "I daresay if you were to ask any person in this town for directions to the home of Mr. Phillips, you would be told to turn right where the dairy used to be."

"But there is no dairy there now?"

"It was torn down years ago," Elizabeth said with a decided nod. "But is still an important feature upon the landscape by its very absence. There, you see? The vacant space right there. If you were to blink, I daresay you would miss it."

Mr. Collins gave her a doubtful look.

"'Tis true," Elizabeth insisted. "Therein lies the old dairy in all of its forgotten splendor. Why, it must have been one of the sturdiest structures of Meryton to last so long after its destruction."

Mr. Collins coughed politely. "I fear, Miss Bennet, you have been too long in the sun."

"Not in the least. Why I challenge you, sir. Right there in front of us is a stranger, is it not? A man you have never seen before, carrying a load of sticks upon his shoulder. If you were to approach him this instant and ask him the way to the Phillips' house, he will tell you just what I have said."

He stopped and looked at her. "Surely, you jest."

Elizabeth smiled, her dimples flashing. Mr. Collins was struck at once by how pretty she was. He had not noticed, as he had been distracted by those of her sister.

"There is only one way to find out, is there not?" she asked.

A trifle uncertain, Mr. Collins looked up and down the street. His gaze lingered a moment on their companions ahead, laughing as they walked with the soldiers. Elizabeth noted the look, certain that her theory regarding his affections was correct, and that he was enamored with either Kitty or Lydia. Jane had been the most logical first choice, but as Mr. Collins knew that she was already flirting with the idea of a courtship, he would have to settle for one of the younger girls. As for Elizabeth herself, she had declared that her heart was unavailable, causing a stir amongst her family wondering who had claimed it, but her reticence on the subject left them dissatisfied, and eventually they ceased to pester her about it.

Wondering what Mr. Collins would say to her challenge, Elizabeth walked on without another word, allowing him time to make up his mind. She was pleasantly surprised when he was able to put his doldrums aside long enough to play along, striding across the street to address the man with his question.

The answer was a lengthy one that involved the stranger's attempt at pointing without first laying down his burden, which became something of a juggling act. An errant stick seemed to nearly put out Mr. Collins' eye when the load shifted suddenly, for he was standing much too close as he listened to the man's directions. Regardless, Elizabeth was pleased to note that rather than grow angry at the near accident, Mr. Collins gave his impromptu guide a coin for his trouble, then hurried back to where she stood waiting.

"Why, I have never heard of such a thing…" Mr. Collins said when he reached her side.

"What did he say?" Elizabeth asked as he fell into step beside her again.

"To turn right where the dairy used to be. There was some other nonsense beyond that, but I was honestly no longer listening. Where it used to be. Imagine."

Elizabeth hid a smile behind her hand, and gestured for him to turn. The empty lot lay before them, and the home of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips was only a short distance beyond.

"I daresay," she said, proceeding to the shaded side of the lane, "that on occasion, the things that will matter most to one are the things that are not there at all."

He gave her a frown of confusion, but did not reply.

She gestured toward her sister Lydia, who still looked up earnestly at the soldier at her side, her expression that of someone who was trying to figure out something important. "Right now, she is not seeing what she is lacking, perhaps in part because she does not yet know where she wants to go in life. All she has been taught is that finding a husband, nearly any husband, is paramount. But if I might make a suggestion? Perhaps by showing her who you truly are, you might find that Lydia is not so shallow as you previously supposed."

The group had reached the house. Mrs. Phillips stood on the doorstep, full of life and energy as she happily welcomed them all to her home.

"Might I ask why you are telling me this?" he asked carefully, as though in fear of giving too much away.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, but when she smiled, it was the first genuine smile she'd had for him all day. "Perhaps because you gave the man a coin, and not a curse, when his sticks fell."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 3

Mrs. Phillips was not one to let anyone hang back for long. When she spied her niece approaching in the company of an unfamiliar gentleman, she thought that perhaps Elizabeth had found an escort in Meryton, and an attachment was developing between them. Her disappointment upon finding out otherwise was paramount, and indeed she was distressed for a moment to learn that this was the same Mr. Collins that would inherit Longbourn upon Mr. Bennet's demise. However, much like her sister, Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Phillips took hope in the idea that he would propose to one of the girls and the estate would remain in the family.

Lydia called her aunt's attention to Mr. Wickham, hoping that he would make a favorable impression upon her relative. While Mrs. Phillips was well acquainted with Mr. Denny, she had no knowledge of Mr. Wickham, so Lydia set about imparting all of the particulars that she knew with delight.

Mr. Wickham bore all of this with patience before he and Mr. Denny made their excuses, citing other duties that they needed to attend to, now that the young Miss Bennets had been safely escorted to their destination. In their absence, Mr. Collins once again became the center of attention, much to his delight.

Mrs. Phillips was in raptures to have a guest with such a varied background and history as Mr. Collins, and he was equally as happy to regale her with all of the details that he could, proving here that he had an intellect that the Bennets had not been treated to before now, as well as strong opinions of his own.

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances more than once when they each expected him to mention his patroness, the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but he did not. Even Lydia seemed impressed, lifting her eyes to regard him in a different light than merely their distant, tiring cousin. Encouraged, he went on with such splendid manners that they each began to think they had misunderstood him before, and perhaps his sullen negativity at Longbourn was a result of their, and their mother's, resentment toward his station in their lives, instead of a result of his own lack of personality.

It was an enlightening situation, and Elizabeth could not help but hope that it raised Mr. Collins from merely a gentlemen to be tolerated for the next few weeks to a potential suitor in Lydia's eyes, although why Elizabeth cared about what her sister thought of Mr. Collins, she did not know. Frustrated with romance in all of its forms since her prolonged visit to Netherfield Park and its distressing conclusion, she wished to be exempt from romantic inclinations until she better understood her own heart. Ever since that talk in the garden with Mr. Darcy, she had found herself confused and longing to be able to go back to that day to make sure that something had not eluded her in her wounded outrage over his insulting words. Try as she might, she could not reconcile the idea that this stern, imposing man imagined that he knew her well enough to propose marriage when he seemed to do little else with such hasty disregard for propriety. They had spoken less than a dozen times in their lives, each for less than a half hour, and yet he fancied himself attached to her? It was preposterous.

And yet she could not put it from her thoughts. Desperate to distract herself, Elizabeth leapt at the opportunity to help her aunt by setting out the tea and cakes rather than engaging in frivolous conversation with her sisters. She did not care about the subjects they discussed, and only wished a few moments to herself while she tried to sort out her feelings about seeing Darcy again, and his comment that she had wounded him.

 _How would I have wounded him? Wounded his pride, is more like it._

"Lizzy, Lizzy!"

She jumped upon hearing her name nearly shouted from across the parlor. "Yes? What is wrong, Kitty?"

"We have each been calling you, but you were not paying the least bit of attention. Tell us, Lizzy, what were you just thinking about? Your face was dreamy, even as you scowled," Kitty teased her.

"Yes, Lizzy, tell us!" Lydia cried as well.

"Nothing important," Elizabeth replied. "It was nothing, I swear!"

Lydia and Kitty giggled together as Jane arched her brows in a questioning manner. Elizabeth shook her head quickly, trying to tell her favorite sister without words that she did not wish to speak on it.

"Come, girls, let us allow Lizzy her private thoughts. Knowing her, it was merely about something she read," Jane interjected on her behalf.

"Dreamy looks over something she read? Now, that would be silly," Lydia said with a laugh. "Join us in the real world, Lizzy, where there are officers to be dreamt about instead."

Mr. Collins' expression tightened as the conversation once again turned back to Mr. Wickham and the facts that they had learned from himself and Mr. Denny. The girls had found out much of his record and various accomplishments on their walk, but had not discerned the whole of his history. As a result, Mr. Wickham had been made that much more endearing of a figure in the eyes of the younger Bennet girls, made all the more romantic by his modesty and reticence. Where he was from, who were his family, whether or not he had any agreements with a young lady, all of this was greatly discussed and reflected upon. Indeed, Elizabeth could not discern the basis of their fascination, whether it was his handsome face and form, his station as an officer, or the air of mystery surrounding him.

Mr. Collins tried in vain to bring back the conversation to himself, but his efforts only made him look foolish and eventually he subsided, much put out. The sour look on his face as he turned and crossed to the window left Elizabeth wondering about his cryptic statement made earlier regarding the true nature of Mr. Wickham, and she wondered what it was he thought he knew that no one else did.

In the meantime, having a houseguest put out with those he was to not only walk home with, but also to dine with that evening didn't bode well, and Elizabeth knew she would have to be the one to soothe his ruffled feathers. Or at least, give him time to soothe them on his own. So with the thought of making peace in mind, she deftly changed the subject from the officers who seemed to vex him so, to another matter entirely – Jane and her time spent at Netherfield Park.

While this seemed a safe topic of discourse, in truth, it was not. Only in desperation would Elizabeth have brought it up. She had very little to recall fondly in regards to their forced stay at Netherfield, but as a matter of course, she was asked about her impressions of the Bingleys and their esteemed guests. In this, at least, she could speak honestly, telling tales so adroitly that she soon had her listeners laughing at her impersonations of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

The only unhappy soul in the room was soon Mr. Collins, and he stood stiffly with his back to the rest. Elizabeth vowed to pay him no mind until the conversation took a turn that allowed her to speak with him directly, such was her curiosity about Mr. Wickham and the familial history that Mr. Collins might or might not be privy to.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 3 part 2

It did not take long before Jane was lost in a long, drawn-out story of how Mr. Bingley had been so kind and concerned after her health. Her retelling was, perhaps, slightly embellished until the younger girls were swooning in delight at the romantic tableau being created in their minds; Jane lying weak and ill, with Mr. Bingley much beside himself in despair at the thought of losing her.

The truth was, of course, much less extraordinary. To Elizabeth's memory, he had sent around a polite inquiry every afternoon – well-meant of course, and even with a hint of worry and true concern. But Jane had only had a cold and one did not generally expire from such inconveniences, a matter much ignored in the storytelling. There had been no deathbed scene to be enacted, straight out of Romeo and Juliet, as Jane would have allowed them to believe.

 _The idea of romance is sometimes such a foolish thing_ , Elizabeth thought, seeing now the contrasts as she busied herself with pouring fresh tea for her aunt and sisters, although she was also a guest. _To one sister it leaves her blind to everything but her budding love, and to the other it leaves her blind to those around her. Each only sees what they wish in the world, for better or for worse._

She could not help but wonder if love frequently made fools of those thus affected by its raptures. Soon it only remained to pour for Mr. Collins, who was yet stationed at the window, watching as people walked by.

"May I freshen your cup?" Elizabeth asked, raising the teapot in her hand.

"Do you think that devil on the black horse is trying to get someone's attention?" Collins asked quietly, ignoring her offer. "He has been riding past this house for the last half hour or more, and turns his head to look in this window every time he passes, but I cannot tell who it is."

 _Devil on a black horse? No, Darcy could not possibly be outside, waiting for me to emerge. What would be his purpose in doing such a thing?_ The teapot shook in Elizabeth's hand until Mr. Collins took it from her, setting it carefully on the table beside him.

"Why, I am almost certain that it is Mr. Darcy. I take it you know why, and you do not look as though you would like to speak with him. However, he seems to be quite determined, as he is coming back around again now."

Elizabeth paled, and looked at him in surprise, frantic to give cover to her racing heart. "I do not know what you mean, sir."

"My dear cousin. Today you have endeavored to do me a true kindness, for which I thank you, even if it came to naught. Let me then do the same for you." He looked at her steadily, his eyes intense. Kind. "A coin instead of a curse. I will walk you out, if you would like to go. A man of Darcy's station does not like to be refused, and I would be willing to wager that he will come to the house if you do not go outside and meet him."

Elizabeth glanced out the window. He was nearly there. Her family chattered on behind her, barely noticing her presence. She could only hope that her absence would be just as easily dismissed.

Elizabeth straightened as she made her decision. "You do not need to attend to me, I can manage on my own." Then louder she called, "Aunt Phillips, sisters, if I might beg your indulgence for a moment, I have only just remembered that I promised Charlotte I would purchase her a new packet of blue embroidery thread, for she has run out. I fear if I do not go now, the shop shall be closed. It is only a street over, so I will return shortly."

The others glanced up. Jane frowned in consternation. "You would go alone?" she asked.

"Hardly alone," Mr. Collins said suddenly. "The shop is only one street over, you say? I will be most happy to accompany you. I do believe some fresh air would do me good after so rich a pastry as I have enjoyed here in your parlor, Mrs. Phillips. Such a fine tea you serve, madam." He bowed to their aunt, flattering her with his elegant manners.

The others quickly agreed to wait for them there, as they were not ready to leave just yet. Mr. Denny had promised to come back for them after his duties were completed that afternoon, and had yet to appear. Relieved, Elizabeth grabbed her shawl, winding it about her in such haste that the fabric went about the wrong way and quite tangled her up. Only Mr. Collins' quick hand saved her from trussing herself completely, and it was like this that they stepped outside, her with her shawl disheveled and Mr. Collins attempting to render aid.

Darcy pulled up short, glowering at the scene before him as only a devil could.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 4

Mr. Darcy appeared stricken as he took in the tableau before him. Elizabeth was still adjusting her shawl while Mr. Collins smiled down at her with an indulgent expression upon his face, offering his arm while he waited.

It took a moment for Darcy's expression, his pale face and stiff posture, to convey itself to Elizabeth and she blushed, beyond embarrassed that Darcy thought he had come upon more intimate of a scene than was accurately conveyed.

Without a word, Darcy gathered up his reins, tipped his hat with a sharp nod of acknowledgement and turned to go. Elizabeth was too dumbstruck to call after him, quite aghast at the picture that she and Mr. Collins must have presented him with.

 _What must he think of me, to assume that Mr. Collins is significant enough to escort me unattended, and that he, himself should leave so suddenly? I told Mr. Collins that I did not need him to come along!_ She could do nothing more than glare her frustration at Darcy's retreating back, incensed that he should so quickly leap to conclusions regarding her.

Heaving a great sigh of frustration, Elizabeth stepped out of her aunt's doorway and started off down the street, thoroughly ignoring Mr. Collins' offered arm. He gave an amused chuckle and caught up to her with quick strides, assuming correctly that she would not welcome even the most familial of contact right now. They walked in the same direction that Darcy had ridden, not to follow him but to purchase the thread that had given her a reason to step outside without the attendance of her family. However pointless it was, now that Darcy had run off in a fit of pique, but Elizabeth could not return empty-handed as she had in fact promised to purchase a shade or two of blue embroidery thread for Charlotte.

They rounded the corner to find Darcy mere feet in front of them, having been delayed by a cart stopped in the street.

"Miss Bennet, if I may?" Mr. Collins asked, gesturing for her to stay, while he trotted to catch up with Darcy. Elizabeth had no choice but stay where she was told, or look the fool if she attempted to make a retreat now. So she stayed, silently cursing the lot of all men who told women what to do merely because it pleased them to take charge, interfering in matters that did not concern them.

Mr. Collins called up to Darcy and the other man dismounted, resigned to the fact that he was not going to be able to get around the cart for some minutes. They spoke closely while Elizabeth watched, intrigued as Mr. Darcy gave Mr. Collins the reins to his mount, then turned and walked in her direction.

She looked around wildly for an escape, for it was one thing to be seen walking alongside her father's distant cousin, whom hardly anyone would take note of, and entirely different to be on the street in the company of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the most eligible bachelor in the neighborhood. Luckily, her establishment of choice was just ahead and she ducked through the door, trusting that Mr. Darcy would follow if he was so determined to speak with her.

She was not disappointed and his tall figure graced the shop's entrance mere moments later. Elizabeth moved toward the back, thankful that there were several packets of embroidery floss displayed therein, even if they were not in the shades she desired.

Mr. Darcy followed, standing a little apart as though he, too, were interested in thread. Elizabeth found herself staring at one section, unable to ascertain which colors were which, so distracted she was by his presence. It did not help matters that he was looking at her more than he was the threads, thus drawing even more attention to them, aside from his mere presence in such a shop. Elizabeth imagined that it was the first time he had been inside a tailor's shop, as custom clothiers generally attended to the needs to the wealthy upper class.

While she had realized that someday she might be brought to task for the harsh things she had said to him at Netherfield Park, she had not thought it would occur in such a public place. To make matters worse, Mrs. Morris, a neighbor and inveterate gossip, was standing at the counter with the shopkeeper to witness the entire exchange.

Mr. Darcy barely spared her or the shopkeeper so much as a glance as he drew even with Elizabeth, his face absolutely inscrutable. He stood patiently at her side, waiting for her to speak, even though it had been _him_ nearly demanding her attention as he repeatedly rode before Aunt Phillips' home.

Finally, she could take no more. "Mr. Darcy, you have followed me for the bulk of the afternoon it seems, but despite your brooding countenance you have yet to explain why. Must I ask boldly then, what it is you wish of me?" she asked. Her fingers shook as she reached for a packet of thread, pretending to inspect the color. In truth, she could barely recall if Charlotte had requested sky blue or azure, and did not give a fig for either. Mr. Darcy only had a few minutes to speak of whatever was bothering him to such a degree that he would confront her, and in public no less, instead of coming to tea and requesting an audience, as was proper.

Darcy, for once, eschewed his usual short replies and responded to her question with one of his own. "Are you well, Miss Bennet?"

Shocked, Elizabeth's gaze jumped to his. His eyes searched hers, asking so much more in his look that she felt the need to break away and focus instead on the threads in front of her, lest she give away something in her expression. The last thing she desired was to cause further concern and delay the conclusion of this impromptu meeting.

"I am, thank you. Why would I be anything other than well?" She purposely kept her tone light, unwilling to hint that she was disturbed by his presence, and had in fact, been disturbed ever since that day at Netherfield Park.

He took a step closer, his brows drawing together. "I fear that you are attempting to mislead me, Miss Bennet. You are pale, and look to be tired. Your hands are shaking and your lips… why you look as though you have been biting them." He took a deep breath as he stared at the subjects of his concern. "I had not thought you to be the anxious sort, and thus, feel that there must be cause for such behaviors. I can only endeavor to hope that it is not due to my unkind words at Netherfield Park."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 4 part 2

Shocked to her core at the detail of his observations, Elizabeth could not help but raise her hand, touching her mouth before she thought better of it. Darcy's eyes followed her fingers and his own lips parted for an instant.

Elizabeth snatched her hand away, blushing a deep shade of red. "Sir, I must object. It is highly improper to speak so of my person. Rest assured that I am in good health, and thank you for your concern. But I must ask, is that the only reason you wanted to speak with me? To ask if I am well?"

He gave her a near smile, his face smoothing as he replied, "What do you wish me to speak with you about? Just tell me and I shall do so."

Surprised again, but for different reasons, Elizabeth met his gaze once more as she nearly laughed aloud at his teasing. "How do Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst fare in my sister's absence? They were in such raptures at her company that I can only imagine they have expired from boredom in her absence."

He did smile a little at this, for it had been noted by all that Mrs. Hurst was more interested in the latest gossip that could be found in the letters from her friends in London, whereas Miss Bingley had been equally as interested in remaining at Darcy's side nearly constantly. She claimed him to be her only friend in the lonely countryside, and was more inclined to walk before Darcy's writing desk than sit with Jane during her illness. Even Mr. Bingley himself had grown annoyed with his sister's attempted attachment and suggested she find something else to do with her time.

"They assure me that an invitation for both you and the lovely Jane to return to Netherfield Park is forthcoming."

Elizabeth sniffed in disbelief, earning a chuckle from Darcy. Her heart warmed at the sound, much to her annoyance. "So, what is so important that you nearly chased me down on horseback?" she finally got up the courage to ask. A thought struck her and she could have pinched herself for not realizing it sooner. "Are you all right? And your sister?"

Darcy's face grew sober. "Yes, Georgiana is fine. Thank you for asking. I only wanted to tell you in person that my aunt, Lady Catherine, has written again, and I am leaving for Kent on the morrow."

"Oh." He stood silently while she sorted through colors. There was a packet of blue beneath several of purple and she clenched it, nearly crushing the paper wrapping in her palm. "I offer you my congratulations, Mr. Darcy. I hope that your marriage to Miss Anne de Bourgh gives you both all the happiness in the world."

"Why?"

"I beg your pardon?" She turned to him in earnest now, no longer amused by whatever game he was playing with her. "What possible reason would I have not to wish you and your future bride happiness?" Her heart clenched at these words, and she had to remind herself that Darcy was only interested in her as a way to excuse himself from this responsibility, that he could not even hold one conversation with her without insulting her. Aside from this one, that was, but she had a feeling their amiable teasing was coming to an end. "I am certain that you find her more tolerable, as you already have such a close relationship with her."

"Are you still upset about that?" he asked in disbelief. "I have told you that I did not mean it, and apologize that you heard such foolish sentiments when I first arrived." He leaned close, his voice lowering as he tried to control his temper. "What more must I do before you forgive me?"

"Is my forgiveness so very important to you? You are about to be married!"

"And I asked you first, if you recall!"

"Hardly," she scoffed, her color back now that they were on familiar ground. "You insulted me and my family, then spoke of an arrangement, but never once stated that you desired me as your wife. You agreed that you are not in love with me, even though you hope for such with your bride. So tell me, sir, why would I accept a proposal that was never fully delivered?"

He stiffened when she would have turned away, reaching out to her sleeve. His fingers brushed hers instead and Elizabeth froze, such contact leaving her scorched and unsure of herself.

"Miss Bennet, I did not mean to hurt your feelings."

"No, it is my fault. I apologize, for you were only speaking the truth as you see it. You hardly know me, nor I, you. My family is of country origins, and less wealthy, to be sure. I will not pretend to be enamored with London, or say that I have even been anywhere within its limits other than Cheapside, as you call it. Even if I could force myself to be a bride of convenience, which I cannot, you would grow to resent me for my disadvantageous connections and lack of refinement. I have no love for being in town, and prefer to live more naturally. Again, I wish you every happiness."

"Then is it true? You have sworn off romantic inclinations so much that even I cannot sway you?"

Elizabeth rubbed her hand against her skirt, for the warmth that had spread from Darcy's fingers to hers had not dissipated. "Whatever are you talking about? I never said any such thing, except in frustration to Jane. She knows nothing of our last conversation at Netherfield Park, and I was referring more to our cousin's determination to marry one of my sisters without even the hint of love between them. Indeed, I occasionally find myself convinced that practicality is now the ruling cause of most marriages, and cannot fault it any longer, if it brings both parties a certain contentment. I only know that I cannot accept such for myself."

"One does not necessarily negate the other. A man can choose to love a woman who is practical, as well."

"That is where we must agree to disagree, Mr. Darcy. One does not choose to fall in love, rather one is overtaken by it. It is, as you said before, against one's better judgment. You did not seek to come to an agreement with me from the warmth in your heart, but rather through the application of cold logic, and the realization that a previous engagement would be enough to dissuade your aunt from pressing her case regarding your cousin."

Offended, it was Darcy's turn to step back. "If that is your opinion, then it must be true? I think not. However, arguing will not solve anything, and I have spent enough time on what appears to be a fruitless venture. I must bid you good day, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth nodded to him, unhappy with the revelation that this was it, it would be over soon. He would go to Kent, and be back with a wife, if he came back at all.

"Mr. Darcy?" she called softly. He turned back to her. "I merely wished to say congratulations. And, perhaps even though we started out poorly, I do hope for your happiness."

He stood silently for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he bowed, then took her hand again to press another packet of embroidery thread into it. "This, I think, was the color you were using on the piece you were sewing at Netherfield Park. I remember your observation that you had run out. Good day, Miss Bennet."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 4 part 3

He walked out of the shop without so much as a glance behind him, leaving her wondering at the implication behind his final words. Finally, she looked down and recalled too late that she had been working on a piece at Netherfield, albeit for only a single afternoon before she had grown frustrated and put it away. That he was correct about both the color and that she had run out was a blow she had not been expecting.

Almost in a daze she paid for both selections, one for herself and one for Charlotte, before she left. The shopkeeper whispered with Mrs. Morris in her wake, speculating on what Miss Elizabeth Bennet could have possibly been speaking with Mr. Darcy about for so long, and in so secluded of a location.

Mr. Darcy had just taken his seat atop his horse and it pranced beneath him, anxious to be gone. Mr. Collins had released the reins and moved to the neighboring shop's window, giving them one more moment of privacy. "If I might have a final word."

"Is there any preventing you?" she teased, attempting to seem as though everything were normal.

"Be careful of those you are unfamiliar with. Not everyone means as well as you think."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing. "And which of these newcomers troubles you most, that you are so inspired to speak against him? Pray tell me it is Mr. Collins, for he dared to call you 'the devil on the black horse' when you rode past my aunt's home at such a pace earlier."

Darcy ignored her teasing tone as his horse tossed its head, shaking its mane with impatience. "It is your Mr. Wickham that bears watching," he said softly. "Do not give heed to everything the man says. I have a feeling that Mr. Collins already knows more than he ought, and can confirm my sentiments. Lady Catherine is not known for keeping things from her daughter, and if he is on close terms with the household, then he has most likely heard at least part of the story, if not all. Wickham is not to be trusted, and you should not allow your sisters near him."

"Ah, now we get to the crux of the matter, and the reason why you were so cold to him. I assumed you knew each other by the way he absented himself from your company as soon as introductions were made. I have only just met him, but did not find myself wondering at his character within so short a time. I find that I am an excellent judge of character."

Her retort had hit its mark for he straightened suddenly in the saddle, his chin coming up in that haughty look she knew so well. "I see that once again you have made assumptions that go far beyond the truth of the matter. Perhaps we have little to say to one another after all. I only thought to do you a kindness and shared this with you because no matter what you think of me, I would not like to see you injured in any way."

"Which you have done, at least to your satisfaction. Now if you will excuse me, I fear by now my sisters will come looking and have endless questions when they see that I am here, beside this great, black horse and his infamous rider. Not that that is the fault of the horse." She reached up to cup the animal's muzzle in her palm, allowing him to lip at her fingers in search of treats that she did not have.

"'The devil on the black horse' I believe you called me." The horse blew into her empty hand in protest, sending a stream of hot air over her palm. "Perhaps because only the devil will take you. Good day, Miss Bennet."

With that he took off, leaving her no time to return the farewell, or respond to his last jab. She stood a long moment, gazing after him. Something had gone terribly wrong in that particular conversation, though she couldn't begin to put her finger on just what it might have been.

Mr. Collins waited for her on the walk, his eyes sympathetic. "I fear, that while sometimes you get the coin," he murmured as he ushered her back toward Mrs. Phillip's house. "…the rest of the time, it is more likely that you receive the curse."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 5

An invitation to join the Phillips' for dinner came to Longbourn the next afternoon, and Elizabeth's sisters were eager to accept. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet remained behind, as they had a previous engagement and did not wish to attend. Elizabeth had looked forward to the outing until she discovered who the other guests would be, and if she thought that the evening would be a pleasant distraction from her thoughts of Mr. Darcy, she was much mistaken. Barely had she sat down to dinner with Mr. Wickham seated beside her than Darcy's name came up again, this time in a disagreeable tale of his boyhood, which had been shared with Mr. Wickham, to everyone's surprise.

By dinner's end, she found that her curiosity had only been heightened, as Mr. Wickham was not only a most agreeable companion, but a handsome one, as well. Darcy's last words of warning echoed through her mind, making her wonder what he had been referring to, if in truth there was any sort of serious disagreement between them, rather than some casual, unintended offense and Darcy's simple male jealousy of Wickham's charming manner.

 _I most likely would not have noticed him so much had Darcy not made such a fuss about him,_ she thought. _And he has regaled us with a most unsettling tale of Darcy's temper. They both dislike each other so very much._ _I had dismissed him as yet another of Lydia's silly infatuations, yet he seems to be a fairly happy, pleasant gentleman, and he clearly has excellent manners. I wonder how he came to be enlisted in the service, instead of some other trade, especially if his family was connected to one as wealthy as the Darcys in his childhood._

She was not beyond having her head momentarily turned by an attractive man, and indeed his manners were so fine, and his way of speaking so pleasant, that she could understand Lydia's fascination with the young soldier. It was only when she looked down the table and noticed Mr. Collins' rising temper that she gave credence to his dislike for the man.

 _Perhaps I should heed their warnings. Mr. Collins did say that Mr. Wickham is not the sort I should allow the girls to set their caps after, and this was well before Mr. Darcy uttered a word about him. I think I shall wait and see how this plays out._

So it was that she declined the offer to play whist after dinner, hoping for further conversation with Mr. Wickham that might explain his mysterious connection with Mr. Darcy, and instead found Mr. Collins at her side once more. He was morose and rather silent for a man who had been eager to converse the entire night, especially in regards to his beloved Lady Catherine. Elizabeth glanced at him now, remembering his help on the previous day.

"Are you all right, Mr. Collins? You do not seem like yourself."

Collins sighed a little and gave her a wan smile, but his gaze was affixed elsewhere. Elizabeth realized that once again, her esteemed cousin had his eye upon Lydia, whose head was turned toward Wickham as she laughed at something that he had said.

 _Oh, dear._

And so it was that the road to romance was not always a pleasant one. Elizabeth had been aware of the polite forbearance that had been given Collins throughout the evening, but his long discourses had quite frankly bored his listeners to tears, with the exception of Mrs. Phillips. She, at least, had been flattered by his attention and the kind comparisons to his beloved Lady Catherine. But now those long ramblings had left him on the outside of things once again.

"Shall you play cards then, with the others?" she asked softly, sighing inwardly for his choice among her sisters. Lydia was altogether too wild for Mr. Collins to have a hope of taming her on his own, and Elizabeth owed him for his kindness with Darcy in Meryton. He did not have to allow them their privacy, either in the shop while he held the horse's reins, or outside it, when he had moved out of earshot. The least she could do was arrange it so that Lydia spoke with Mr. Collins for a few moments.

"Do you think I ought?" Mr. Collins asked.

She considered the question with care. "I think," she said finally, "that perhaps giving Lydia an opportunity to enjoy your company would be the best course of action, and playing cards with her is the easiest way at hand." Which was to say, she hoped that he would take a seat at the table, keep himself quiet, and let the others have their fun without trying so hard to be in the center of things. She was starting to suspect that he only attempted to be in the spotlight due to a misguided notion that Lydia would be impressed by his connections and accomplishments, when in reality the girl had little care for either. Quite frankly, nor did anyone else in attendance.

So it was that Mr. Collins at once offered to play whist, with an expectant look toward Lydia as he did so. However, his luck had taken a turn for the worst, as Wickham was already in the midst of a polite refusal, electing instead to sit near Elizabeth at the other end of the table. Lydia, not about to let her new hero out of sight, immediately changed her mind and joined them, sitting on Wickham's other side.

Poor Mr. Collins was quite dismally caught, having expressed so much enthusiasm for whist that there was no backing out now. In sullen dismay he settled himself to the game, though to his credit he put an easy smile upon his face, thereby making the best of things, and going back to his entertaining flattery of their hostess, leaving her in paroxysms of delight.

And leaving Elizabeth with her debt to him unpaid once more. For she had thought that if she managed to place Collins beside Lydia and they struck up a conversation, she would no longer owe him for his assistance in town that day. She was very grateful that he had allowed her a few moments of near seclusion, or as close to it as could be had in public, to speak with Mr. Darcy. If Lydia would only speak with Mr. Collins for a few moments, Elizabeth hoped that he would be happy, and could determine for himself that such a match would never work between them.

However, it was not meant to be. There was little time to think upon it, though, for the game began and she found that Mr. Wickham was interested in refreshing their line of conversation concerning Mr. Darcy, and how Mr. Wickham knew him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 5 part 2

Elizabeth listened to the tale that unfolded with growing dismay. The revelations regarding Mr. Darcy's character were not in keeping with the Darcy that she was familiar with, but she had to ask herself how well she truly knew him. Indeed, he had seemed rather heavy-handed in tracking her down in Meryton, and of course, in the matter of the proposal itself.

Lydia exclaimed over his situation, giving him every sympathy. Elizabeth, however, sat back in her chair, unsure of what to believe regarding this tale. For Wickham had told her that his father had been the steward at Pemberley under Darcy's father, and had met with an unfortunate demise early on. Thus, Mr. Wickham had been raised alongside Mr. Darcy, for they were fast friends as children, and young Mr. Wickham was a treasured member of the household. However, Mr. Darcy had grown jealous of his father's affection for Mr. Wickham, and they grew apart to such a degree that Mr. Darcy chose not to grant him the inheritance that his father had set aside for him, instead leaving him destitute. He eventually enlisted with the services to provide himself with some small means, and had hopes of moving up in the ranks.

At this, Lydia turned starry eyes to his handsome face and swore that Mr. Darcy would forever be the worst sort of gentleman, namely, the kind that deceives and dishonors his family. Mr. Wickham had brushed his fingers over the back of her hand, eliciting a hearty sigh from Lydia, as well as a menacing glare from Mr. Collins. Elizabeth could not be certain that Mr. Wickham had seen the expression directed at him for his inappropriate affection, but she was fairly positive that Mr. Wickham knew of Mr. Collins' attachment to her.

Elizabeth frowned at Lydia until she moved her hand safely away. _I am beginning to think that Mr. Wickham is more than he seems._ She sat quietly a moment longer, but the details of Wickham's childhood with Darcy bothered her. He had told stories of Mr. Darcy as an arrogant, insolent little boy, always getting into trouble and delighting in tormenting his little sister, Georgiana, with nary a thought of the consequences of his actions. Wickham made it clear that Darcy was the leader of their mischief, which caused Mr. Darcy's father to eventually favor young Wickham, even going so far as to tell young Darcy to behave more like his friend.

While Elizabeth knew that boys would be boys, and every child gets into mischief, these descriptions felt wrong when applied to the man she had become familiar with during her stay at Netherfield Park. Even if everything else was true, Elizabeth knew that Miss Georgiana was much younger than Mr. Darcy, and that he positively doted upon her. Why, even Caroline Bingley had remarked upon it, saying that Darcy could ever be found in his little sister's rooms, playing at tea and making her smile.

 _Why would Wickham paint a picture so at odds with everything else I have learned about Mr. Darcy? And who to believe? I know very little of Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Darcy's behavior at Netherfield Park was not artfully done or contrived. Indeed, I do not feel that he would assign such importance to me as to bother with falsehoods, whereas Mr. Wickham is making every attempt to show himself in the most favorable light. I do not want to accuse him of attempting to mislead us when I barely know him, but perhaps there is more to this than he is letting on._

Added to all of that, Mr. Bingley certainly seemed to trust Mr. Darcy with the utmost of confidence. To assume that there was such a glaring error in his judgment then called into question whether he was a man worthy of Jane's affections, fortune or no.

But if it was Darcy who was sincere, then who was this man who sat so amiably next to her? The questions persisted as the evening wore on, and by the time the gathering was determined to be over, Elizabeth was tired of thinking on it, and torn in her loyalties.

 _We need to speak about this in the morning,_ Elizabeth thought once they were safely back at home. _For if Mr. Wickham is telling the truth, then perhaps Mr. Bingley is not as good a match for dear Jane as we are all to assume. But if Mr. Wickham is deliberately misleading us, then I need to convince Lydia that he is not a good match for her. Perhaps it would be a good thing if she were to redirect her affections to Mr. Collins, but how to encourage such a thing?_

Vowing to think on it no more tonight, Elizabeth readied herself for bed, but she could not shake the feeling that she was forgetting something very important. She sank down upon the mattress, hairbrush in hand to puzzle it out, but the only thing that came to mind was Mr. Darcy's warning regarding Mr. Wickham. He had seen him only in passing, the merest glimpse, yet recognized him immediately.

If Mr. Wickham were truly earnest in his assertions that Mr. Darcy had so mistreated him, then had he fled due to fear that Mr. Darcy would speak out of turn and thereby harm Mr. Wickham's position here in Meryton? Or had it been out of fear of an altercation due to his own wrongdoings that caused Mr. Wickham to make such a hasty retreat? Neither option painted Mr. Wickham in a favorable light. However intimidating Mr. Darcy was, Elizabeth imagined that there would have to be something extreme between them for Mr. Darcy to take action in public.

But that also made little sense, for even in his proposal his manners had been impeccable, if proud. And he never once gave any indication that he was a man who was prone to violence or misconduct of any sort.

Idly she resumed brushing out her hair for bed, wondering at how little she thought she knew Mr. Darcy, yet how much detail and defense of him her agile mind was supplying her with just now. Perhaps she knew him better than she realized.

She glanced over at Jane, already sleeping. After her cold, she still tired easily and the night out had been a stimulating one. Jane had enjoyed the games with great enthusiasm, perhaps made more lively by the fact that her aunt had encouraged her to speak more of Mr. Bingley and her time at Netherfield Park. It hardly seemed that there were enough details to rehash in such thoroughness, but Jane had found much to talk about, traveling the same territory in their conversation as often as allowed so long as it led back to Mr. Bingley. Always to Mr. Bingley. But her face had been bright as she'd spoken, her eyes alight with a thousand candles when she reflected upon his virtues.

Was this what love was all about? Elizabeth rose to put the brush away with the rest of her silver-backed set and surveyed herself in the small looking glass affixed to the wall. How many virtues had Mr. Darcy? Or Mr. Wickham? She thought about each in turn, studying her own face, looking for the changes therein, but saw nothing except the confusion in her eyes. There were no lights within, no flushing of the cheek. If anything she looked pale and angry and put out.

Clearly then, this was not love and she had been correct to refuse Darcy's proposal, even if thinking about it left her somewhat more flustered than she had expected.


	14. Chapter 15

Chapter 6 part 1

It was a week hence that the invitations came for the Netherfield Ball, and with it, the residents of Netherfield Park, themselves.

Elizabeth watched as the carriage arrived, counting heads and dreading the encounter. She had no fond memories of her conversations with the ladies at Netherfield, and seeing quite clearly that both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had accompanied Mr. Bingley, she thought to make herself scarce.

 _Perhaps I should return the book that the rector loaned me last week,_ she thought, casting a glance at the stormy skies above. _I will have to hurry, but I would rather be caught out in the rain on my return trip than to be stuck inside with these particular guests._

The walk was a good mile over countryside lanes, and Elizabeth set out with all of the enthusiasm that comes from being afraid of being called back by those at home. She was anxious to make it past the first hedgerow, where she could be considered out of earshot before slowing to enjoy her stroll.

Despite the threat of rain, the air was warm and the countryside teemed with life. For the first time in days, Elizabeth relaxed even knowing she would be scolding soundly for having not been there to join their guests for tea.

 _Let Jane manage that_ , she thought rebelliously as she slipped over a stile into the next field. _There is no need for quite so many of us during such a call._

Though truth be told, gentle Jane would not likely be able to settle Mrs. Bennet half as well as Elizabeth would. There was apt to be a boisterous welcome, completely inappropriate and embarrassing in the extreme, the likes of which could well threaten Jane's standing with Mr. Bingley. It did not do to have overly excited relatives, as one was never in full confidence that they would conduct themselves appropriately.

 _Is that my responsibility? Perhaps Jane needs to stand up for herself, and for what she wants._ Elizabeth was taken aback by her thoughts, but could not apologize for them.

Distracted by her thoughts, Elizabeth slid down the bank of the creek, opting to cross on the half-submerged rocks, rather than go all the way around to the bridge. It was here her foot slipped and left her teetering precariously, hovering at the edge of certain disaster when a set of strong arms rescued her, setting her firmly upon solid ground..

"Miss Bennet, it seems you are always having some difficulty or other when I see you."

The voice was one she knew only too well, and full of haughty laughter. She caught her breath, unprepared, for she had not seen him arrive with the others or even heard that he was back in residence.

She turned and was caught by surprise at the way her heart stuttered into an uneven rhythm within her chest. Mr. Darcy, and his black charger, played the part of the knight errant as he bowed politely to her from the riverbank and offered his hand in assistance the rest of the way.

"Mr. Darcy, I would thank you, but I assure you I had things quite well in hand." Her chin went up with her words, and she told herself it was only so that she could look him in the eye, he stood so close to her.

His lips twisted up into a half smile. Elizabeth could not look away, even as he handed her the book that had come so near destruction when it had so slipped from her hand. Her own lips tingled in response, and she had to keep herself from touching them once more. Why did this always happen around him?

"If that were truly the case, then I would not have dashed to save you as I did. I daresay you were inviting a thorough wetting, which could have led to disaster so near the ball. We cannot have you following in your sister's footsteps and catching a cold."

"So they came to invite us, then?" she inquired before catching herself, for she had not intended to ask.

"You do not include me in their numbers?"

"'Tis not your ball," Elizabeth said, pushing past him. She stayed clear of the steep riverbank and started out over the open field that lay between herself and the rectory, but did not go as quickly as she might have before he arrived. The book was clasped in her arms, but her errand suddenly felt less urgent in his company. "Nor do I see you inviting anyone, or is that why you have saved me from the river? To beg me to attend the ball and tease you while you refuse to dance? I imagine you need only say a word and Mr. Bingley would invite whomever you wished."

"You imagine me with a great deal of power, Miss Bennet."

"You have a certain influence," she conceded, then bit her lip for it was not a thing she had wanted to admit. He had no need to know of the recent trials of her heart. "Not that I have noticed," she added with a gentle toss of her head.

"Indeed, not," he agreed almost too politely. "Are you in a hurry, Miss Bennet?"

She cast him a questioning glance, but did not deign to reply. He indicated a log that lay alongside the path. "I thought you perhaps might like to sit."

Elizabeth took a breath and looked across the field toward the church, with the parsonage in the copse of trees just beyond. She wavered, for her curiosity about his trip to Kent was close to overwhelming. And, she supposed, she had come to enjoy his company more than she thought. It had taken several days after his departure to stop glancing about for his horse during her frequent trips to Meryton, and of course, she had thought of him every time Mr. Wickham's name came up in conversation.

Which had been frequently, much to Mr. Collins' displeasure.

Mr. Darcy seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he gestured again to the log next to the path. "I assure you, it will only take a moment. Please, come sit with me. I promise that I will do nothing improper." His tone was polite. Wistful even, or did she imagine that?

"Sitting together alone is hardly proper," she protested, hating herself for wavering, though her heart wasn't in it. In truth, that organ was now beating painfully fast and loud, growing worse the longer she stood here with him. She had come to regret her hasty insults the longer she thought on them, even if her anger at his poor choice of words yet burned within her breast. Although she could scarcely say why she was so affected by his poor opinion of her family and friends, when she had assured herself that she did not care about his thoughts at all. Now here she was, completely unable to decide whether to even talk to the man.

"You walked with me in the garden at Netherfield a time or two without protest."

"That was at Netherfield Park, and we did not walk together so much as merely at the same time. This is different. Indeed, sir, we are completely alone, where anything could happen. Indeed, my poor reputation would be ruined if we were to be seen, and my refusal to marry you would be all for naught. Would you advise your dear sister Georgiana to sit with a gentleman under the same circumstances?"

He offered no reply as he gestured again, and truly there was nothing more that could be said of the matter. With a sigh, Elizabeth sat, perching on the farthest end of the log with a sigh of resignation.

And no small amount of awareness that he was settling himself directly beside her.

He was too close. She could feel the warmth from his arm at her side, radiating through her. She shot to her feet once more. "I cannot. I cannot pretend that nothing happened between us. We have a history together, however unconventional it is, and I doubt very much that your new wife would be happy to hear that we are spending time alone together."

"I am certain that she would agree with you, if I had one." His eyes were dark and filled with laughter though they watched carefully for her reply.

She whirled to face him, feeling her bonnet dislodge and tumble to the grass behind her. "Then you did not go to Kent to marry Miss Anne, as your aunt commanded?"

She faltered here, unsure of what she feared more. That he would say yes, and be lost forever, or that he would say no and she would still be in this state of unsure confusion, torn between wanting to learn more about him or asking him to leave her alone.

"Much to Lady Catherine's disappointment, I did not. That was what she expected of me, of course, but I found that neither Miss Anne nor myself could go through with it. She is a delightful young lady, and I hold deep affection for her, but I could not resign myself to a marriage so unlike the one my parents enjoyed. They shared a truly special connection of the heart, and I have decided that I will not settle for anything less. In truth, I swore to Georgiana a long time ago that I would not, nor would I ever force her to. She even wrote to Rosings Park, my aunt's estate, to remind me of such lest I do anything foolish."

 _And yet, he proposed to me? Does this mean that he felt that same depth of emotion for me, and I unwittingly crushed it?_ She was too cowardly to speak the words aloud. "I am happy for you both that you were able to witness such a match growing up. I daresay it was not the same at Longbourn."

Darcy laughed at her joke. Elizabeth's heart warmed at the sound, and she found herself wanting more of it once he had stopped.

"Come now, I imagine that your father holds some affection for your mother."

It was Elizabeth's turn to giggle. "I imagine he did once, and still enjoys teasing her, but he spends most of his days in the library. Sometimes I wonder if he enjoys his many books for their contents, or the way they dampen the sound of her voice, and keep it from coming through the walls."

Mr. Darcy threw his head back and laughed, and Elizabeth joined him after a moment. "I had not considered the sound-dampening effects a wall full of thick tomes could have, but I daresay it could be considered an asset," he finally said with merriment. "If only more gentlemen knew of this particular property, I daresay half of England would find themselves with libraries posthaste."

"Only half?"

"Three-quarters, then. Truth be told, the country would most likely be a better place if that happened, for perhaps then more people would actually read. I, for one, spend many of my days in the library at Pemberley. Writing letters, looking over documents, managing the estate, all of these things take up so much time, and I find that I work best surrounded by books."

She could not help a dreamy sigh from escaping her lips. "That sounds delightful. I have ready everything in my father's library at least twice. Even the most boring tomes to be found among his shelves, I have traversed from cover to cover. I imagine that the library at Pemberley must be grand, indeed."

"It should be, as cultivating and maintaining it has been the work of several generations. I would like to add more to it, myself, but need a bit more assistance in its management. I am surprised to hear that you have already read everything your father has to offer, as I would have assumed that he would have an acceptable collection."

"Perhaps you are underestimating my skill, instead of the contents of his possessions."

Darcy rewarded her tart reply with another smile, revealing dimples for the first time. Her breath caught at the sight. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, for it seems I am ever underestimating you."

"There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Darcy. In truth, it is only a small selection, as Mary and I are the only ones who enjoy it, aside from Papa. He is ever mindful of the entailment of our estate and all of its contents, so he does not wish to only grant his daughters dowries of books they cannot truly have, instead of coins that might increase our chances of matrimony."

He studied her for a long moment. "I would be happy with books."


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 6 part 2

Elizabeth simply forgot how to speak. Wordless, she had a brief irrational thought that she might not even be breathing after such a statement.

"If only everyone were so fortunate," she finally murmured, color staining her cheeks. Darcy's gaze found the spots and she blushed even harder.

"Indeed."

They sat quietly a moment, neither wanting to be the first to break the comfortable, strangely companionable silence between them. Too soon, they heard thunder rumbling in the distance, a sure sign that rain was on its way.

"Well, Miss Bennet, I am afraid that our time is up. It had been most pleasant, sitting here with you." He gave her another smile, revealing his dimple yet again. Elizabeth could not help but smile back.

"I fear you are correct."

"Regarding our time being up, or the pleasant conversation?"

"Both," she replied with an arched brow, daring him to contradict her. It only took a moment before she could not contain her laughter any longer. "It has been very pleasant. Thank you for saving me, and my book, from the stream."

"I am ever at your service," he said with a bow. "Might I hope for the pleasure of a dance with you at the ball?"

She grew warm at the thought. "Are you certain? I might make you laugh and break that stoic expression you always seem to wear in public. It is quite intimidating, you know. I would hate to be the reason that our good townspeople no longer quake at the sight of you."

"You could never."

"Then it is a challenge?"

"If you would like to consider it so. Does this mean that you will save me a dance?"

"I shall attempt to pencil you in, sir. You may have to whisk me out of the arms of my cousin, Mr. Collins, but I would be quite grateful if you did."

Mr. Darcy stopped, appraising her in a new light. "Ah, yes. Mr. Collins. Is there an agreement developing between you? I admit, I was taken aback by the sight of you walking alone with him in Meryton."

"No, we do not have an attachment. In truth, he has eyes for one of my sisters, and is at a loss as to how to gain her attention. For some reason he has decided that I am to be his confidant and render aid in his pursuit of her, although I know not how to do such a thing. It has become very convoluted, indeed."

"Ah. He has set his sights on Lydia, then?"

She stared at him, aghast. "Mr. Darcy, how did you know? You must promise not to tell anyone! He has not yet made his intentions known toward her, as he is reluctant to make an offer before securing some sort of affection. He would be humiliated if Mama and Papa had to force her into the match, and would not want her to accept him out of duty alone."

"Indeed, your mother would make her accept him, regardless of poor Lydia's feelings on the matter."

"I am afraid so. Mr. Collins does not want her to be resentful of him." She stopped suddenly, realizing all at once how improper the conversation was. "I do not know why I have told you all of this. It is of a very private and personal nature for Mr. Collins."

"Nonetheless, I am relieved at hearing it."

She could not help the small smile that adorned her lips, the tiny well of happiness that could not help but shine through.

"Has she granted her affections to someone else, and that is why he is having such difficulty?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Mr. Wickham, I am afraid." The words escaped her before she had time to stop them, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. "I am trying to dissuade her, truly."

It was too late. Darcy's eyes had tightened and his expression shuttered. "I had not realized he had become such a fixture in your social circle."

"My sisters are, unfortunately, enamored with nearly any officer they see. Mr. Wickham is not my choice for her at all, and I fear that he may be spreading stories regarding your relationship with him."

"Oh?"

"He claims that you have ruined him. Denied him his rightful inheritance as promised by your father, and claims that you were a sullen, ill-tempered child, always wont to get into trouble and create mischief for your sister. He claims that he was your father's favorite, even though he was not your father's child."

"What do you think of these stories?" He stepped back, a stricken look upon his face. Elizabeth felt his absence more strongly than she anticipated.

"I think it a falsehood, at least in part. If nothing else, I know how much you love Georgiana, and all boys are destined to get into mischief every now and again. I know nothing of your father, or your childhood, but could not image that you would ruin someone out of spite alone."

"But you feel that I would ruin someone for some other purpose?"

"Mr. Darcy, that is not what I meant." It had perhaps been worded badly, and she instantly regretted it. "I do not think you would injure someone unjustly."

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and he swung up into his saddle. "I am glad to hear it, but need to think on this. As I said, it has been a delight speaking with you, but I fear we should both be on our way now."

Elizabeth could not help but take a step towards him, nearly lifting her hand to ask him to stay. "Mr. Darcy, I apologize for my words. I did not mean to insult you."

"Do not fear, Miss Bennet, I am not angry with you. Thank you once more for the few moments of your time, and I look forward to seeing you again."

"I look forward to it, too. Goodbye, Mr. Darcy." She watched him ride away, her heart heavy at the turn their conversation had taken. The first few drops of rain sprinkled the countryside and she lifted her skirt to hurry across the field that separated her from the rectory, anxious to return the borrowed book. It would not do to ruin something that did not belong to her. Though she had the uneasy feeling that she might have done just that.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 7

The flurry of activity that followed the invitation to the ball at Netherfield was made that much more wretched by the constant rains that plagued the countryside. It got so that no one could even venture so far as Meryton without risking their health entirely, and after Jane's illness, none of the Bennets were quite willing to take that chance.

One particularly grey morning, Elizabeth was instructed to go out into the gardens to save a few blooms from the relentless rain. Mama wanted to use them to freshen the tables inside, bringing a much needed bit of color to the gloomy indoors. The rains had stopped for the time being and each window was thrown open, hoping to let as much light and fresh air in as possible. It was nearly a fruitless endeavor, as the air hung heavy with moisture and the skies remained grey, covered with dark clouds that emitted low rumbles of thunder to echo off the hills around them.

Frustrated at so few choices, she snipped off several bedraggled flowers that she hoped would brighten once they were sheltered from the constant battering of wind and rain, and turned to go inside. She came face to face with Mr. Collins, who it seemed was inclined to talk.

The garden bench was still wet, yet Mr. Collins did not mind as he wiped it with his handkerchief and bade her to sit. Mystified at his silence, Elizabeth did as he asked, careful of her apron, which she'd filled with bright blooms to take into the house. It was an awkward position, made more awkward by the company she kept, who, for all his previous ease with her, now seemed to find conversation difficult.

"Are you planning on attending the ball?" she asked after they had exhausted small talk about the weather. She was anxious to know what was bothering him, that they might discuss it and go back inside before the next deluge hit. Perhaps he was struggling with his decision to accept or decline the invitation to Netherfield Park. He was, after all, a man of the cloth, and dancing was something that was typically frowned upon by most in his position.

"I most assuredly am!" he exclaimed without hesitation. "Proper dancing does much to cultivate the spirit, and I am in hopes that it will aid me in my purpose here, and do not doubt that she would encourage me to attend the ball in pursuit of such. Why, she speaks so highly of dancing…" And he was off, on another story about Lady Catherine and the progressiveness of her mind, and how dancing was truly not frowned upon in the ways that it once was.

It was not the response that she had expected. Elizabeth was somewhat taken aback, but then she had been constantly surprised by her cousin since he had arrived to stay with them. It seemed that he wavered between supreme self-confidence and enthusiasm bordering on idolatry regarding his patroness, to a sort of awkward misery when matters of the heart did not go his way. To be so confident in all except romance was at once frustrating and endearing, and it made him almost tolerable, even at his worst. She had not forgotten his kindness in Meryton the week before, and felt sorry for him when she saw how Lydia's poor treatment of his attentions left him so particularly devastated.

Finally, he fell silent. The clouds billowed overhead, looking more violent by the moment. Elizabeth was certain that it would rain at any second.

"I am not here solely for the reasons you think I am," he finally said as she stared at the sky, almost willing it to rain that they might put an end to this conversation. She had been fearing this speech since her mother had suggested that Mr. Collins intended to marry one of the Bennet sisters, and even though she had already said as much to Darcy, hearing Mr. Collins admit it to her was another matter entirely.

Of course, Mrs. Bennet had been positive that Mr. Collins was infatuated with Elizabeth, and hinted that she was his choice of brides, given that they had spent so much time together on that fateful trip to Meryton. Elizabeth was more than happy that she knew otherwise, and that Lydia was the object of his heart's desire, but she could not inform her mother so without Mr. Collins declaring himself first.

"You have already hinted at such to me," Elizabeth reminded him gently. "I am sure that we all have our private motivations to our actions that those around us do not always perceive," she said carefully, not truly wishing to be brought so fully into his confidence.

"I have told Lady Catherine that I would return with a wife."

The statement hung between them, and Elizabeth felt the first twinges of anxiety that he may be drawing this out with her in recompense for things not going well with Lydia. Elizabeth did not want to find herself in the position of having to turn down two marriage proposals.

"Lady Catherine suggested that I marry soon, as it would do my position much good within the neighborhood. A church man ought to be married, after all. It builds a certain trust among the parishioners and gives a certain completeness to the parsonage, and so I had thought to merely come and choose one from among my cousins, the Bennets of Longbourn, an estate that I am to inherit eventually. But that was before I met all of you." He hung his head, studying the ground between his feet. "Do not mistake my meaning, I find every Bennet sister to be quite a delight, so very different from each other, but all with such keen intellect. Indeed, you conduct yourselves well, regardless of what rumors I have heard, and all are very accomplished."

"I daresay you're too kind," Elizabeth said, a little put off by the flattery. For as much as she hated to admit it, her youngest sisters held few true accomplishments and had little ambition toward cultivating such. It was a fact that had left their mother mired in dismay that they might not ever marry at all.

"Not in the least. I can sense your thoughts. The younger girls show great potential, despite their affinity for chasing after those in uniform." His smile here was mocking, and Elizabeth could not help but smile sympathetically with him, for she well knew that he had only to drag out his own uniform to attain similar attention. "But I do sense there is a depth there, especially in regards to Lydia. She is full of so much life and vivacious energy, is it any wonder that she gets into mischief with nowhere to direct it? I daresay a task, a _true_ task to occupy her time, would bring out the very best in her, in ways that we cannot begin to imagine."

He stopped there, his face turned up to the sky, a worshipful reverence upon his countenance. "Can you not imagine it?" he asked.

Whether he was asking her or himself, Elizabeth was not sure, but it was the clouds who answered first. A drop of rain spattered upon his forehead, accompanied a moment later by another.

"I daresay it is the heavens that answer you, and not I!" Elizabeth said with a laugh as she got to her feet and offered him her hand. He looked at for it a moment, then took it, laughing with her as they ran to the arbor, where they were sheltered from the sudden onslaught.

The space was small and required that they stand close. Elizabeth craned her neck to look out, trying to determine if the rain was going to let up anytime soon. She would much prefer to make a run for it than stay so compromised, though she knew she was hardly at fault for standing with her cousin in plain view of the house.

"So is it Lydia then, to whom you wish to propose?" she asked, adjusting her grip on her apron. The flowers she had collected were rather worse for wear, as they had started out battered and were now beginning to wilt as well.

"With all my heart. Only I do not know how to gain her attention when there is always someone about to distract her."

"I don't suppose you have brought your own uniform on this visit by any chance? Or some other memorabilia from your time in the service?" Elizabeth asked, then shook her head. "Of course not, forget I asked it. I truly do not believe that she is quite so fickle as all that."

"I begin to fear it is hopeless," he murmured. "Is her heart already set upon Mr. Wickham?"

"Assuredly not," Elizabeth replied, hoping that it was not so. Lydia had been caught up with Wickham from the beginning, and as much as Elizabeth was loath to admit it, she could understand why. There was something about the man that left one feeling sweetly vulnerable and excited to be in his presence. The manner in which he told a story, the very excitement of his career – Elizabeth herself was not immune to his charms, for all that she'd realized of his falsehoods about Mr. Darcy.

"What should I do?"

Low thunder underscored the cry that came from the depths of the poor man's heart. Collins looked miserable with his head bowed low and his coat spattered with rain. Never had a more woebegone figure graced this particular arbor.

"Let me think on it a little. The ball is tomorrow night." Elizabeth could hardly believe the words coming from her lips, but did she not perhaps owe Collins something? A favor still, from his assistance in Meryton?

As though thinking of that moment himself, Collins turned his gaze upon her, a look of sly mischief in his eyes. "I wonder…" he murmured. "Given your own failed romance, if perhaps we had best quit the field together. We are certainly compatible."

"If you are suggesting that we marry solely because the objects of our affection are out of reach-"

"So you admit to it then?"

Elizabeth flushed. "I am hardly attached to Mr. Darcy."

"Yet your eyes light up when you see him, and you walk a little taller when you are at his side. Say what you will, but you are as sorely besotted by the man as I am by that blasted sister of yours."

Elizabeth stood there, silent. Angry. At him, perhaps, or herself. She was unsure which. Possibly both.

"We would not be bad together," he murmured.

Elizabeth sighed. No, they would not. Many marriages had been made on less. At the least, her conversations with Mr. Collins had showed her that while he was priggish at times, he mostly spoke of his Lady Catherine out of nervousness. Alone like this, he was quite tolerable, with a keen intellect, and a sharp sense of humor that the rest of the world did not see.

"I will help you," she said finally. "Allow me to think on it tonight, and we shall discuss the particulars of my plan in the morning. Mind you, I am not guaranteeing that she will accept your offer for her, but only that I will try to allow you some time with her to see if she could possibly return your feelings."

"I would be most appreciative of any aide you can give, my lady." He bowed and she had to laugh, for so courtly and exaggerated was his gesture that he was quite left standing with his backside in the rain.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 8

"Elizabeth! What is the meaning of coming inside in this manner?" Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice filled the small parlor as Elizabeth stood there, trying to stamp the mud from her slippers. Mr. Collins had already gone to his room.

"Why, Mama, in what manner would you have me come in? It was raining, and I had no desire to be soaked through and risk catching a cold. You have been warning Jane against such all week!" Elizabeth laughed as she shook the rain off her hat with one hand and dumped her bounty of flowers out upon the table with the other. The blossoms scattered in all directions, half losing their petals already. Indeed they were a poor selection with which to grace the table.

"You know that is not what I am talking about!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, drawing Elizabeth away from the door as though expecting Mr. Collins to return at any moment.

"I daresay you might speak freely, for the good Mr. Collins has retired to his room to change. He was so kind as to use his coat to save me from the worst of it, and received quite the drenching himself."

"I saw as much, you vexing creature. Are you going to tell me, or not?"

"Tell you what? It is raining. You can see that from here." Elizabeth shook her head, and hung her hat on the peg by the door. She hoped that the rain had not ruined it altogether, for she dearly loved that particular bonnet.

"I fail to see why you insisted on fresh flowers this morning. They are all bedraggled, and I think that even with your skills in arranging them, they will prove to be a pitiful display." A sudden realization struck her, and Elizabeth's head came up slowly.

"Mother, pray do not mislead me, but did you, by any chance, send Mr. Collins out to speak with me in the garden?"

Mrs. Bennet colored as she whirled toward the kitchen. "Good gracious, what is that dreadful scent? I daresay Betty has burnt the gravy. Do you smell it? I must speak with her about it before dinner is entirely ruined."

"Mother, you will not take one step further from this room. What have you done?"

Mrs. Bennet half turned, a look of pouty defiance on her face that melted into absolute paroxysms of dismay. "Oh, what is a mother to do? Mr. Collins has been here near a fortnight, and it is obvious that he has developed a great deal of feelings toward you. Why I have even heard that he sought to walk with you alone in Meryton, and escorted you to the tailor's shop for embroidery thread. He only needs a small push in the right direction, a compelling reason to declare himself, and I have often commented how you look so pretty in the garden. I daresay he spoke with you of a way to keep Longbourn safely within the family, did he not?"

Elizabeth drew herself up, and if her voice was a trifle sharp when she answered, she could not help it. Indeed, she felt it deserved, given how vexed she was at her mother's interference. "You are referring to matrimony, are you not, madam?"

Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands in overwhelming joy. "Oh, he _did_. I must get Mr. Bennet! He will surely wish to speak with Mr. Collins about his intentions toward you, and how he will maintain you. Of course, you will talk him into allowing me to stay here after Mr. Bennet is gone, so our troubles are over! I expect he should have spoken to your father first, but young people are so ruled by emotion that I am certain it will be forgiven with all possible haste."

"Forgiven? What needs to be forgiven? Is there some sort of scandal afoot?" Kitty asked upon entering the room.

"Mr. Collins did not ask Mr. Bennet's permission before proposing to Elizabeth."

Kitty positively screamed, startling them all with her exuberance. "Elizabeth is to marry Mr. Collins?" Her shriek brought her sisters running.

"I most certainly am not!" Elizabeth threw up her hands in consternation. "Truly, this is too much, even for you, Mama!"

"What do you mean you are not? Of course you are! Do not tell me you have refused him!" Mrs. Bennet cried.

"Mr. Collins has not asked me to marry him! And I would say no, even if he did!"

"But he spoke of matrimony, did he not? It is no secret he intends to marry one of you girls."

"What is all of the excitement about?" Mr. Bennet demanded. "I could hear you shouting all the way from the library, as though something were amiss."

By this point, Mrs. Bennet was beside herself. "Your daughter, good sir, has absolutely refused the suit of Mr. Collins, much to our entire ruination. If you do not convince her to change her mind we will all be thrown from our home, which I am certain will leave you satisfied."

"I hardly think I will have much satisfaction over the matter if I am already dead, for the only sense I can make of this conversation is that you fear that Mr. Collins will treat you ill upon my demise. Which I shall endeavor to remind you has not yet occurred. At least, I fail to see that it has. I am unsure, but I could have sworn I woke up alive this morning, and things have not changed much since then."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, trying desperately to keep from laughing aloud. Her sisters, on the other hand, were less amused.

"Mr. Bennet, you simply do not understand!"

"Of course I do not. I am still waiting on a sensible explanation. So let us have it, Lizzy. What suit are you refusing that will lead us down the road of destruction?" Mr. Bennet asked in a dry tone.

Elizabeth shot her sisters such a quelling glance that both Kitty and Lydia ceased their never-ending questions and even Mary sat down to hear better. It was only Jane who met her gaze without blinking, calm and serene even in such chaos. Elizabeth knew that she, at least, trusted her sister to have a modicum of sense, if not sensibility.

"Mr. Collins has no suit, pressed or otherwise. He only spoke in general terms regarding his wish to find a wife."

"I knew it! And, Lizzy, you vile creature, you have refused him!" Mrs. Bennet collapsed into a nearby chair, her entire body shaking with sobs.

"I hardly see where a wish to find a wife is the same thing as finding one," Mr. Bennet replied, well used to such displays. "Here, I see the man has come downstairs. Let us ask him ourselves. Ho there, Mr. Collins, if you would be so good as to come into the dining room and settle a matter, I would much appreciate it."

"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet struggled from her chair, grasping at her husband's coat. Whispering urgently in such elevated tones that scarcely anyone could have missed, she implored him, "Do not create further embarrassment. This is already an appalling situation if I ever heard of one."

"A situation?" Mr. Collins came into the room, his face a mask of confusion. "How may I be of assistance?"

Elizabeth groaned as she collapsed into the closest chair, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with laughter at the absurdity of the scene, although she tried to contain herself. Mrs. Bennet took one look at her and began to wail for her smelling salts, exclaiming that Lizzy would be the ruin of them all.

"Pay her no mind, Mr. Collins. My mother is marrying us off in her mind, and has set the banns and announced to all and sundry our impending nuptials since Thursday last. I daresay there is nothing we can do now save bow to the inevitable. Verily I think she will imagine the ceremony done by nightfall."

"ELIZABETH!"

This horrified shriek was followed by a spell that might have included a pretty faint had there been something to faint upon, but the younger girls had taken the settee and Mr. Bennet had taken his seat in the chair that Mrs. Bennet had just vacated. Thus, she had to suffice with red-faced mortification and entreaties that Mr. Collins forgive her headstrong daughter for her nonsense.

Elizabeth could do no more than shake her head as Mrs. Bennet finally could stand it no more and fled the room, calling for tea to be delivered. Mr. Collins cast a final look around, and, seeing that no further information would be offered, made his escape to the library.

Once they were both gone, the remaining Bennets turned to look at Lizzy with an air of utmost curiosity, all expecting an explanation. Elizabeth stared them down.

"I do not, I repeat, do _not_ have any romantic feelings toward Mr. Collins, and he has none for me, either. He is as fine a man as there is, once he gets past his nerves and can engage in quiet conversation, but I assure you, I am not marrying him. You may dismiss the idea at once."

It took a moment for each of them to accept her statement, but eventually they had no choice but to do so. The younger girls filed out of the room, returning to the amusements from whence they had come running, until it was only Jane and Mr. Bennet left.

"You would tell me, Lizzy, if you had any sort of inclinations regarding our guest, would you not?" Mr. Bennet pressed, not entirely satisfied with Elizabeth's vehement speech. Jane came to stand beside her, placing her hand over Elizabeth's in a show of silent solidarity.

"Of course I would, Papa. But I assure you, there is nothing between us."

"He has been spending a lot of time around you. He is not making a nuisance of himself, is he? Is there anything I need to address with him?"

"No, Papa, everything is fine. I would never dream of keeping anything from you if it were otherwise. He has been a perfect gentleman."

"But he is here to propose to one of you," Mr. Bennet said with a sigh. "If not you, then who?"

"It is not my place to say, Papa. But yes, he has expressed that he is here with the goal of asking one of us to be his wife."

"Well. Not your place to say, eh? It must be Kitty or Lydia then, as Mary is still too young." He brought his hands down on the arms of the chair and stood. "We shall see what comes of it, if he ever brings himself to ask."

"Indeed, Papa."

He leaned over and kissed her brow. "There's a good girl. You make me proud, Lizzy."

Author's Notes: Yes, I switched the order of the girls from the canon, and instead have Lydia as the middle child and Mary as the youngest, in the spirit of keeping all brides over the age of 18, unlike the original story.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 9

Dinner in the Bennet household that evening was a rather quiet affair. While Mr. Bennet was seated with a look of wry amusement on his face, watching the whole thing almost from afar, Mrs. Bennet spent the meal in meaningful sighs and glances directed first at Lizzy, who ignored her, and secondly at Mr. Collins, who could not for the life of him figure out what grave offense had cast a pall over the entire party.

Jane, of course, paid no mind at all, as she was brimming with anticipation of seeing Bingley again a night hence. Mary was silent, because Mary was always silent when it came to family squabbles, having offered up her own sentiments at the onset of the meal and thereby feeling that her duty was done, had nothing more to say upon the matter.

Of course, Mary's thoughts were rather taken from the threadbare treatises on morality that they had each been forced to read at some point or another, so there was nothing there that anyone had not heard before. If anything, Mary's words only served to remind Elizabeth that she needed some new reading material, and with it, might expand her horizons to include less stringent expectations of her sisters. Mr. Collins attempted to drum up a scholarly discourse, but soon gave up when he saw there was little interest at the table. Without an audience to listen, it seemed Mr. Collins had very little to say.

Which might have been somewhat unfair.

Elizabeth thought about enlightening poor Mr. Collins as to the dire circumstances that Mrs. Bennet had imagined would occur after the death of her poor husband, but could not think of a way to bring it up that would not further her mother's embarrassment. The tea he had endured with the family that afternoon had been a torturous affair, she was sure. Elizabeth had failed to attend, a slight her mother had lectured her on soundly when she had caught Elizabeth out afterwards, but Lizzy had refused to take part in what had become a sly inquisition regarding the intentions of Mr. Collins.

The only thing to be thankful for was that Mr. Collins had treated Lizzy's fabulous statement from earlier as a joke of some sort, and while mystified, had smilingly endured it, which attested to his good nature. Unfortunately for him, Mrs. Bennet had resolved to not let the matter rest until she had received an answer from him that would settle things regarding her second daughter, as the first was already safely spoken for in her mind, one way or another.

"But do tell me, Mr. Collins. Is not our Lizzy a fine figure of a woman? She is so very accomplished that I cannot help but think that any parish would be blessed in having her," Mrs. Bennet said suddenly as the pudding was presented.

"Mother!" Elizabeth sputtered. Mary helpfully clapped her on the back until she winced.

Mr. Collins, who had been speaking at length about Lady Catherine's efforts at raising roses and the problems she had been having with an uncommon beetle was halted mid-sentence, his face a display of utter confusion. "I certainly would fail to see why any parish could help but think so."

"You are too kind," Elizabeth murmured, wishing that he were across from her at the table and not quite so far down, for it was impossible to kick him from where she was seated. She was therefore forced to settle with what she hoped was a quelling glance, and a bid to change the subject. It was Lydia who typically spoke the most when given an inspiring opportunity, so Elizabeth directed her next question in her direction.

"Are you excited for the ball at Netherfield Park tomorrow, Lydia? Do you think any of your friends will be in attendance?"

"Oh, yes! I had heard from Maria Lucas that their maid heard from one of Mr. Bingley's staff that a dozen or more officers will be invited! Captain Denny is to be in attendance, and perhaps even a lieutenant or two."

Now it was Mr. Collins's turn to give Elizabeth a most unfriendly look as Lydia launched into a long story about Mr. Denny and of course, the esteemed Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, she had little new gossip to share after being shut inside Longbourn for the past week with the rest of them, and so she quickly ran out of news. However, this did not stop Kitty from screeching for more, demanding to know who else Maria had said would be at the ball. Lydia did not know, but they both were content to speculate on the officers who may have been granted space on the guest list for the remainder of dinner.

So it was that they avoided any further talk of Mr. Collins' intentions or Elizabeth's virtues as a woman, much to her delight. However, Lydia and Kitty's delight in speculation over the militiamen corresponded to Collins' growing dismay, and it was little wonder that he cornered Elizabeth after the meal to vent his annoyance.

"I thought we had an understanding," his whispered accusation barely reached her ears, so quiet he was in his affront.

Elizabeth cast a look back at her family, who as yet had not moved from the table, despite Mrs. Bennet nearly demanding that Elizabeth go choose a piece of music to play in the parlor. She then had insisted that Mr. Collins go ahead as well, to make certain she chose something he could sing along with, and thus treat them all to a concert of sorts.

Elizabeth walked to the pianoforte in the corner, trusting him to follow for a few moments of quiet conversation. She picked up several sheets of music on pretense of looking for a particular song, while Mr. Collins leaned close to further convey his irritation.

"I apologize, Mr. Collins, but I do not know what you are referring to. I have been attempting to think of a plan regarding Lydia and yourself, but have not come up with anything yet. I shall endeavor to speak with you after breakfast."

"You are being deliberately obtuse! I have made my feelings clear regarding Lydia, and yet here you are encouraging her to speak of those officers that she is so fond of, not the least of which is that rogue Wickham."

"Rogue? Is he really so bad, or is he merely attempting to impress young girls with exaggerated stories from his youth? I admit that I was not fond of the way he spoke of Mr. Darcy, and do not believe that Darcy slighted him without reason, yet I do not have any idea what could be so bad as to refuse to grant someone an inheritance."

"He is every bit a rogue, from my limited understanding. I have it on good authority from my patroness and her daughter—"

"The famed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, once more," Elizabeth broke in with a shake of her head. "I fail to see what your Lady Catherine would know of Mr. Wickham, unless his actions against the Darcys were truly reprehensible. If that is the case, the entirety of Meryton ought to know, to avoid allowing him to take advantage of anyone else."

"It cannot be spoken of. I do not know any of the details, and would not share them if I did, but I trust her ladyship's opinion of Wickham. That is all there is to it."

Elizabeth gave him an impatient look.

"This gets us nowhere," he finally conceded with a sigh. He cast a look back toward the doorway, for they could both clearly hear her family approaching, slower perhaps than normal. Giving them time to converse alone, Elizabeth realized with dismay. Even now she could hear her mother telling her sisters to wait upon entering.

"We cannot speak any more like this. I will find a way to speak with you tomorrow, but that is all, for if these manipulations of my mother are to continue we shall be forced to marry in a sennight, so compromised we both will appear. I cannot believe she would place me in such a position…"

Elizabeth thrust the stack of music into his hands with such violence that it was a wonder he was able to grasp the pages without losing them entirely. "Here, for heaven's sake, select something and I shall play. It was our intent to provide some entertainment this evening, and with any luck, hear no more of Mama's infernal matchmaking tonight."

He shifted the pages about in his hands, pausing first at one and then another. "I was not aware you played."

"I love music, but I play very badly. My fingers will not go where I will them to, making it painful for not only myself to endure, but those around me as well. I can only hope that your singing is of superior quality, and will drown out my mistakes."

"Superior or no, we shall soon find out."

"All of this would be much easier if you would only make your suit known," Elizabeth hissed as she took the music he chose and placed it on the pianoforte. "I fail to see why you do not come out and express your feelings."

"I would if there was but a hint of encouragement on her part. I wish to win the lady fairly, not force her into an arrangement that she has no desire to be part of."

Elizabeth, somewhat chastened, placed her fingers upon the keys, reflecting that this was a sentiment that she could well respect. It was one of the very reasons that she had refused Darcy's rather pragmatic, and even practical, proposal. Much as she had wished otherwise of late.

With a crashing of keys, Elizabeth played the introduction to the piece as her sisters and parents drifted into the room. To his credit, Mr. Collins gave no hint that anything was out of order, and his rich baritone filled the room. It was a surprise, perhaps to all of them, to discover that he really could sing as well as he had boasted that he could. It put him in new light in many eyes that night, leaving some to wonder if perhaps their guest was more accomplished than they knew, and could possibly have merited the accolades he was only too happy to tell them about.

Elizabeth found herself looking upon him not without favor, though his expectations of her were beginning to get out of hand. Thankfully the conversation settled into a more musical vein than marriage-minded, and each of the Bennet girls were called upon to perform over the course of the evening. Kitty and Lydia chose to dance as their entertaining display, while Mary played an Irish jig with deadly earnestness. But dancing, of course, led the conversation back around to the ball they would be attending so soon, and the younger girls could hardly refrain from turning the conversation back around to the officers who would be present.

Mr. Collins rose at this point, claiming a headache, and left the room almost entirely without notice.

But one set of eyes watched him go, thoughtful and grave for an instant before turning back to her sisters with a more lively mien.

Elizabeth noted this in silence, for this too gave her much to think upon.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 10

"Lydia, darling, can you come here a moment? I cannot seem to find my other glove and I simply know it must have fallen behind the chest of drawers."

The Bennet sisters were in an absolute frenzy as they prepared for the ball. This had been an all-day affair, starting with baths and ending with helping each other into their dresses, ensuring that every tie was done and every pin in place. Elizabeth knelt on the floor against the wall, trying in vain to reach her fallen glove.

"There, I know it is back there. Here…if you would but help, we could move the chest to see behind it. Oh, it's too big to move."

Lydia strained with Elizabeth to shift the heavy weight, slowly managing to pull one side away enough that they could see Lizzy's glove crumpled into a heap against the wall.

"I don't understand why you ask me, and not Jane," Lydia complained as she put her shoulder to the furniture again, her face growing purple with effort.

"Because you have said time and again, you are the tallest. See? If you cannot reach, then none of us can. Besides, Jane already has her dress on, and kneeling here in the dust would ruin it."

Jane nodded seriously from her seat before the looking glass. She took a pin from her mouth and carefully worked it through her tresses, adding a lock to the pile of curls atop her head.

"Yet you do not seem to mind if mine gets dirty," Lydia complained and she shoved past Lizzy and stretched her arm, easily retrieving the glove.

"I know full well that's not the dress you intend on wearing tonight. You have barely even started your toilet."

"And you are delaying me. Here." Lydia handed her the glove and flounced off to retrieve her fresh petticoat from its place upon the bed.

"You have saved me, dear sister. Thank you for your help," Elizabeth said as she leaned her weight against the heavy chest, sliding it noisily back into place. "Why is putting it back so much easier than drawing it out?"

Lydia shrugged as she leaned down beside Jane, very nearly elbowing her eldest sister out of the way. "Hurry up, the rest of us need to see as well."

Gripped by a sudden impulse, Elizabeth grabbed her own hairbrush and called Lydia over to sit on the bed before her. "Here now, let me do it for you. Would you like it up, or down? I know you liked the style you saw Charlotte's hair in at the last ball. I could do that for you, if you prefer."

"I could use some assistance," Jane murmured, her mouth still full of hairpins. She had just finished pinning up half of her hair, and needed another set of hands if she was to finish on time.

Lydia squealed, clapping her hands in excitement. "Would you? Lizzy, you are wonderful. Let me change my dress and we can begin."

Jane made a frustrated noise, which drew Kitty to her side. Jane cajoled her into helping with a promise to return the favor. Mary, meanwhile, sniffed at them in disdain and assured her sisters that she would be waiting downstairs, having been ready this past half hour, and seeing no reason to fuss at features or coiffure at all. Indeed, her hair was dressed plainly, which matched the severity of her dress.

Lydia chattered endlessly as she dressed, stopping to gesture with wild enthusiasm that nearly sent her own gloves hurtling to the floor, at risk of becoming lost in her discarded clothing that covered every possible surface, each not quite right for the evening's event. Petticoats competed for space with pantalettes, stockings lay discarded in all directions. Elizabeth sighed and picked at items on the floor, making an attempt to restore the room to order.

"Leave that. Sit down and tell me. What is it like?"

"What is what like?" Elizabeth asked, sitting dutifully behind her sister, hairbrush in hand.

"Being in love."

Elizabeth nearly choked. She had thought that she had hidden her thoughts upon the subject fairly well. There were none that could possibly have suspected her association with Mr. Darcy, or their interaction on the fateful walk which had led to their most recent, and most revealing, conversation. "I am fairly certain I do not know what you mean."

"With Mr. Collins! Lizzie, there was not an eye in the house that was not attending to your conversation with him in the garden yesterday morning. You stood so very close within the arbor. Was it wickedly delightful, to be so alone with a man?"

"Lydia!"

"Mama said there was nothing scandalous since he is going to propose to you. I do not understand why you are so secretive about it, when we can all see how much he enjoys spending time with you. Or is it because he has not spoken to Papa yet? How utterly romantic."

Lydia continued on in this same vein, taking Elizabeth's dumbstruck silence as agreement.

 _How has this happened? It will do no good for Lydia to speak with Mr. Collins, or even dance with him tonight, if she already considers herself his sister-in-law! Oh, and how I hoped she would feel some kind of connection to him, but all will be lost if she thinks of him as family, instead of a suitor! What an utter disaster!_ "Lydia, please listen to me! There is no understanding, or romantic leanings of any kind between Mr. Collins and myself! That was all Mama's doing, as she sent him out there just before it would rain in hopes of fostering some connection, much like she did when she sent Jane to Netherfield Park! We only spoke of the ball, and I promised him a dance. Nothing more." She felt the slightest stab of guilt at misleading Lydia, but reassured herself that it was for the best. Lydia absolutely could not continue this infatuation with Mr. Wickham when his reputation was so quickly catching up with him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 10 part 2

"Then he does intend to speak to Papa first!" Lydia cried, quite ignoring Elizabeth's protests. "You are fortunate, for he is well placed, and Lady Catherine sounds quite elegant. I can only imagine the society you will experience, going for tea at Rosings Park, the balls that she should hold and friends you will make—"

"Stop! Oh, do stop!" Elizabeth ran the brush through her sister's hair perhaps a little more roughly than she'd intended, flinching when Lydia winced. Nevertheless, Elizabeth jerked the mass into an elegant twist and began to pin the curls almost savagely. "There will be no such society. It is not I that he wishes to marry."

"Nonsense. Jane is all but spoken for, and I hardly think Mary—ow! That hurt!"

Elizabeth mumbled an apology, realizing for the first time how utterly blind Lydia had been to the desperate attempts Mr. Collins had made thus far to gain her attention. She frowned as she worked the cascade of curls just so, adorning the style with green ribbons that matched Lydia's dress. Finally finished, she stood and walked around to inspect her handiwork.

Greeted by the bright, expectant look in Lydia's eyes, Elizabeth could do nothing else but soften her irritation and try to be a little gentler. With a start, she realized that perhaps she had been too focused on her favor for Mr. Collins, and not concerned enough on the heart of her sister. "Are you in love, Lydia? Truly in love, and not merely in the throes of another infatuation?" she asked quietly.

"Yes! No! I do not know. When I see Mr. Wickham, my heart does strange things within my chest. I feel…like the entire world is in front of me, only waiting for me to discover the wonders it might hold. He is so bold. So exciting. Yet beautiful. To believe that he has such a tortured beginning, that he has been betrayed so, yet remains most amiable to those around him, bearing no grudges or ill will."

Elizabeth's heart quailed within her chest. Her own preferences for her sister's future aside, she could not help but feel a certain uneasiness at hearing Lydia's devotion to a man with so conflicted of a past.

She longed to warn her sister, and tell her of the cautionary tales regarding Mr. Wickham that had been conveyed to her, but did not want to accidentally reinforce her starstruck love, for there was no surer way to inspire Lydia to take action, than to tell her not to. Elizabeth settled on a different course of action, hoping that it would be more effective.

"Oh, Lydia…I do not know if that is what love feels like, or merely attraction. The trembling of a heart, the weakness of limbs. Such words seem but the foolishness that authors of romantic novels do pen. It seems to me that a man you admire, would be one that engages the mind and not just the senses. Who challenges you, as much as excites. Who is honorable above all else. And who shows a singular devotion for the object of that affection."

Lydia's eyes opened wide, as she seemed to see her older sister truly for the very first time. "You do love someone!"

Elizabeth blushed even as she denied it. A quick glance over to Jane and Kitty revealed that they were busy with their own whispered conversation, and not paying attention to hers with Lydia, thank goodness. "I do not know how I feel. It is complicated, but rest assured, Mr. Collins is not the person of whom I speak, and you must promise not to reveal this secret to anyone. I doubt very much that it will ever come to fruition, and do not give it credit with all of the attributes that I just listed. Perhaps it is only from watching Jane and Mr. Bingley's budding romance that I might find inspiration as well."

Lydia arched her brow with a disbelieving glance. "Very well, Lizzy, we shall not speak on it any more right now. But rest assured, you will have to tell me everything on the morrow."

"Perhaps. These feelings that you spoke of with Mr. Wickham though, I must beg you not to put much stock into them. For did you not describe something similar when you first rode Caper across the countryside? You used those same words, a racing heart and trembling limbs as he carried you across the field and down the lane so very quickly, for it was your first time to gallop on horseback," Elizabeth reminded her with a teasing smile. "And now, such a ride is so commonplace that you do not think anything of it."

Lydia giggled at the reminder.

"My darling, bright, energetic sister. The last thing I would want for you is to give your heart to the first man who makes you smile, and then find that the very reasons for your happiness fade within a week. Better to choose someone more devoted to you than to himself."

Lydia's smile had faded, something that pained Elizabeth, but she knew to be for the best. "I also do not want you to get your feelings hurt when Mr. Wickham finds out about the entailment, for it is just as important for a poor man to marry well, as it is a poor girl. Do you recall Mr. Denny commenting that Mr. Wickham is ever on the lookout for a girl with a fortune?"

Lydia nodded, now truly pulled back from her immature flirtation. "I also overheard them speak of a gambling debt that Mr. Wickham had at their previous post. Perhaps you are right, Lizzy. One can never be too careful." She heaved a sigh. "What a shame, for he was certainly a pleasure to look at."

"That I can agree with," Elizabeth said with a laugh. "Your hair is finished. Come, let us get your cape on and you can join Mary downstairs. It looks like Jane and Kitty are almost done as well, and I just need to do a few more things before I am ready to leave. It seems as though we might be out of the house on time, for once. And who knows, perhaps you will find a new suitor at the ball tonight, or take note of someone that you might otherwise have dismissed."

Lydia nodded and skipped through the door, her cheerfulness restored at that thought. Elizabeth watched her go with a mixture of happiness and regret, happiness that she was able to spare Lydia from getting her heart set on Wickham, but sadness at the notion that her sister would soon be choosing a husband, and leaving them all behind. Elizabeth could only hope that Lydia settled her heart on someone as honorable as Mr. Collins, if not that very gentleman, himself.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 10 part 3

She hurried into the bedchamber she shared with Jane, quite relieved at the moment's respite that it afforded her. Jane and Kitty were still in the other room, and Elizabeth only needed a few moments to collect herself. The day had been a hectic one, but she had found a way to speak with Mr. Collins, as promised.

Her plan depended slightly on Mr. Denny's cooperation, but so little that it did not hinge upon it. She had sent him a note earlier today, and could only hope that he had received it in time to collect one or two pieces of militia memorabilia that he could show to Mr. Collins and Lydia, in hopes that Mr. Collins would then regale her with tales of his own time in the service. Once her interest was caught, he was to expound upon the beauty to be found at Rosings Park, and the exciting teas and balls that were occasionally thrown. He was also to tell her about the many interesting responsibilities of being a clergyman's wife, from the endless interaction with their parishioners and all of the good she could do if she were to hold such a position. Lastly, Mr. Collins had agreed to declare himself if all of the aforementioned conversation went well, to determine if she would entertain the idea of a courtship.

Elizabeth was initially very hesitant to involve Mr. Denny, as he had always shown Lydia a particular favoritism, but they had recently received word of his engagement to a young lady that he had been courting at his previous post. It seemed that she had finally agreed to move wherever he was assigned, and as such, they decided to marry. The banns had recently been posted, and the ceremony would be expected within a fortnight.

Her necklace lay on her dressing table and she sat to put it on, inspecting her reflection once she was through. She could find nothing wrong with it, but found herself wishing for the first time that she might be considered as pretty as Jane, for then she felt that perhaps she stood a chance of catching a certain gentleman's eye as well.

 _I wonder what Darcy will think. He has never said that he finds my appearance to be pleasing, nor has he given any indication otherwise. It is not likely that he will ever tell me his opinion, as I have already ruined our chances together. As he said near the rectory, he already asked for my hand once, and now I do not see him asking again._ The realization brought tears to her eyes, and she had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling, for once they began, she was afraid they would not cease, and it would not do to go to a ball with swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

Vowing not to think on it any more, she gave herself a stern look in the reflection. Unfortunately, it did not help. _I wonder if he will be accompanied by anyone this evening. I cannot expect a man as handsome, intelligent and diverting as my Darcy to remain single for long. Oh, if only I knew him this well when he proposed at Netherfield Park, I would have said yes in an instant. But I did not, and so I refused, thinking it best for us both, as I felt he was insincere and only being pressed into it by his aunt. But now I wonder…_

His voice echoed through her mind as she recalled the way he had said "I would be happy with books," ever so intimately. The phrase had repeated itself often in her mind, and wrenched her heart a little more every time. _I do not know if I can bear to watch him dancing and laughing with someone else the way he laughed with me on my walk. But eventually I will have to, as I am certain that he will bring his bride with him to visit at Netherfield Park, when he finally claims one. If Mr. Bingley keeps the estate, that is, and I cannot wish him to release the lease if he is to make an offer for Jane._

Thoroughly miserable at this line of thought, Elizabeth put her head upon her dressing table for a moment. It was only the voice of Jane at the door that brought her out of her mood, asking if she was ready to depart. Elizabeth took a deep breath to steady herself and replied that she was.

She put on her own cloak to protect her evening gown from dirt on the way to Netherfield Park, took one last look in the mirror to make certain that her face looked better than her heart felt, and left for the ball.


End file.
